If You Can't Take the Heat
by haleigh91
Summary: Emma Swan's life as a food critic might not have been ideal, yet it was the cards dealt to her. But what happens when Killian Jones – a culinary rival from her past – shows up, living the dreams she never fulfilled? Will she finally move past her bitterness and open up to him or will the dark secret of her past get in the way? Captain Swan Chef/Food Critic AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Each chapter will be told with the present day and a flashback – so essentially you're getting two stories in one! The plan is for this story to be 8 chapters in length. Enjoy!**

* * *

Emma Swan hated quarterly meetings.

It seemed kind of ridiculous for a food critic to attend a workshop on trivial matters such as "How to properly assess food" and "Dessert: Is there such a thing as too much sweets?". But as the head food critic for The Boston Herald, it was her job to attend the regional gatherings once every three months (no matter how often she tried to convince her boss that it really wasn't necessary). Having basically grown up in the kitchen – always surrounded by whisks and ovens and frying pans – Emma Swan knew good food (she didn't get into the best culinary school in the North for nothing).

Glancing at her form in the mirror, nose scrunched up in disapproval at the strict business wear, she smoothed out her darkly colored wrinkled skirt with a sigh. Her bare feet were cold on the hardwood of her apartment and she curled up her toes with a chill. Frowning once more, she turned away from the mirror, bounding towards her roommate's room.

"Hey, Ruby. Question," Emma spoke hurriedly as he barged into the brunette's room without so much as a knock, the door swinging wildly behind her and hitting the back wall with a thud.

Ruby exhaled – eyes rolling as always – continuing to fold up her too large pile of laundry and speaking without skipping a beat. "Ever heard of knocking, Em?"

"Can I borrow your black pumps?" the blonde questioned (blatantly disregarding Ruby's rhetorical question in haste), already digging through her friend's rather large collection of shoes.

"What's got you so dressed up?" Ruby asked, her laundry-folding coming to a stop, folding her legs up under her, before she added with a wink, "Hot date?"

"Quarterly meeting."

"Ooh," she winced, her mouth coming down into a pouty frown, already knowing how much her best friend hated the meetings. "Who's the 'special guest speaker' this time? Rachel Ray?"

Emma snorted at her friend's attempt at joking (Ruby definitely had her own sense of humor), the black pumps dangling in her hands, her bracelets jingling against each other with her shrug. "I don't know. Normally they announce early, but this time they want it to be a surprise apparently. Probably just some old, bald guy as usual."

"Oh fun. Get his number for me?"

Emma laughed, picking up one of the fluffy pillows on Ruby's bed and chunking it at her before walking out, throwing her voice over her shoulder back at her friend who was currently drowning in her pile of clothes. "Shut up. I'll be back later."

Ruby gave a sharp squeal as the pillow made contact with her arms in an attempt to block Emma's attack. The two had been living together for years, thanks to their long standing friendship – and the fact that there was never a dull moment with their usual banter. Rolling her eyes, she gave a muffled yell behind closed doors. "Good luck!"

Slipping her heels on in the hallway, one arm braced against the wall for support, Emma finally took the time to glance at her watch – _11:25 A.M_. With the meeting starting in thirty-five minutes and half way across the city – once again grateful that the get-together was being held in Boston this time – Emma knew that she better leave now if she was going to arrive on time (if there was one thing that was ever consistent in her life, it was that she was constantly late. Ruby often complained that she needed to get the phrase "better late than never" cross-stitched to hang in her room).

With one last glance in the hall mirror, she grabbed her keys from the bowl by the door, putting on her black peacoat to brave the autumn chill as she ran down the stairs towards her car. Exhaling into the breeze, Emma reminded herself that if she could brave the next few hours, she would be set for another three peaceful months.

If only she knew.

* * *

The meeting hall was already crowded by the time she arrived (tired and completely out of breath - traffic at noon in Boston was pure hell) and, checking her phone, Emma realized that she had arrived with one minute to spare. Just her luck. With a sigh she slipped into a seat in the last row (easier access to the exit as soon as it was over), unbuttoning her thick coat and shrugging it off in the stuffy room.

Not a second later she was pulled out of her thoughts by the screeching of a microphone, causing Emma to wince and grit her teeth.

She _hated_ quarterly meetings.

With three short taps on the microphone, and another round of ear splintering feedback, the middle-aged man in charge took the stage, speaking a little too loudly. "Hello, all! We are just going to jump straight into things because we have a very special guest with us today. Our speaker is a Boston native. He graduated from the Cambridge School of Culinary Arts in the Professional Chefs Program. Most recently you may know him as the owner and head chef of the highly acclaimed and brand new Dockside Steak and Seafood restaurant right here in Boston. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Mr. Killian Jones."

Emma's head quickly shot up, mouth hung ajar, her wide eyes easily finding his blue ones on the stage – that same smirk plastered on his face as the last time she saw him ten years ago (had it really been that long?). Checking to see if anyone had noticed her gawking (they hadn't. Most of the ladies were too busy swooning to notice her), she closed her mouth and swallowed thickly, swearing that her heart had stopped beating for a moment.

Glancing around at all of the nearest exits, and taking into account which one would cause less attention, she almost considered leaving right then. When she had told him goodbye all those years ago it was with the intention of never seeing him again. _Ever_. That's one of the reasons she had never told him the truth – the real reason she had left - back then.

But now he was here. Back in town. _Her_ town. Opening _her_ dream restaurant (well, technically she wanted to open a bakery, but _details_) - and when she saw that cheeky grin once more on the stage, Emma remembered the reason she had hated him so much back then.

Although the room was silent except for his smooth voice, discussing flavor and savor and some other ridiculous nonsense, it felt like the entire room was ringing loudly in her ears. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't do this. She couldn't just sit here and listen to him give her advice on food.

(She was supposed to graduate. _She_ was supposed to be the one on that stage. And he was now just a reminder of all she had given up).

She still hated him. So, so much.

Sliding down low in her seat, Emma tried her best to inconspicuously stick her headphones in her ears. If she was going to be forced to sit there, there was absolutely no way she was going to listen to anything he had to say (each word a knife to her heart and a remembrance of a different time, when she was carefree and young – all until the incident happened).

The minutes ticked by slowly, Emma never lifting her head once to glance his way (she didn't owe him anything), instead choosing to listen to Pandora and play Candy Crush.

She hated that game – but she hated him more.

Minutes rolled into the next hour and Emma was unaware that she had dozed off until the lady sitting next to her accidentally elbowed her in the ribs with her enthusiastic clapping. Giving a quiet groan and clutching her side as the burning subsided, Emma realized that it was finally over – and they were all clapping for him.

Taking her earphones out and stuffing them in her purse, Emma caught the end of the host's comments, breathing a sigh of relief that she had managed to avoid listening to Killian's lilted voice as much as possible.

"Let's give one more round of applause for the wonderful Killian Jones. He will be sticking around afterwards to answer any questions you may have. Thank you all and we will see you again in three months."

It didn't take long for the crowd to begin bustling, mostly women heading towards Killian – and it's almost guaranteed that they weren't going to go ask for his secret recipe either. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Emma ran a hand through her blonde curls, sticking closely to the side of the walls with her eyes set on the exit. And then that's when she heard the voice that she had been avoiding all night, and he was calling her name.

"Emma? Emma Swan?"

With her heart rate increasing, Emma continued walking, purposefully ignoring him as best as possible until she felt his hand wrap around her arm (warm and soft and _oh god she was in deep trouble_).

"Swan, is it really you?"

Exhaling shakily and standing up a little straighter, she moved to finally face him. Better to brave it than to be known as a coward. Still avoiding his gaze (she wasn't even looking anywhere near his face but the intensity of the blue was burning straight through her soul), Emma gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jones." Her voice was formal and sharp, tone bitter and seeping with disdain. If he was going to try to hold one of those awkward "how have you been – it's been too long" conversations, she was going to attempt to keep it as brief as possible.

"You know it's just Killian, love. Gods, Swan. I can't believe it's really you! I thought I'd never see you again," his voice was light and full of complete joy, mirroring his eyes (no where near the reaction she had received when they attended culinary school together). When Killian moved in to give her a hug, Emma stiffened, taking a short step back to put some distance and keep the conversation professional.

"It's Miss Swan," she reminded him, tightening her hold on her purse strap until her knuckles began to turn white.

Killian playfully rolled his eyes, shy smile nothing like she had ever seen before. How much could he have changed in ten years?

"So what have you been doing all this time? I'm sure you have a world-class bakery somewhere, just like you always dreamed, correct?"

"I'm a food critic, Mr. Jones. Why do you think I am here at the quarterly food critic meeting? I can assure you it is not for fun." Once again, she bit out the words to him, finally connecting with his gaze to give him the glare he deserved.

"Well in that case," he started, tongue in cheek, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a business card, "here is my business card. I just opened a new restaurant down by the waterfront. I'm sure you heard about it. I'd love to have you stop by sometime and give us a review."

Emma snatched the card from his hands, glancing down at it and then back up to him.

"Or if you would prefer, m'lady, you are always welcome to give me a call for some more _enjoyable_ activities."

And there was the old Killian Jones, throwing a flirty wink her way as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark suit, tongue running obscenely across his bottom lip. Allowing herself to give in to the temptation just once, she swiftly admired his form. He was taller than he was in college; more built (and god, with those biceps he _had_ to work out). His hair was shorter, messier and he had that whole "just rolled out of bed-sex look" going on for him.

No wonder the women still threw themselves at him. Those ten years had definitely been good to him.

Catching herself, Emma pulled herself back into the professional shell, lifting her chin to give him a curt goodbye. "We will take it under consideration. Have a nice afternoon, Mr. Jones."

Turning on her heels, Emma exhaled to the rhythm of the clenching and unclenching of her fists, ignoring the voice calling from behind her _("Hope to see you again soon, Swan!")._

She _really_ hated quarterly meetings.

* * *

**Ten Years Earlier**

She was so late.

It was not a good first impression to be late on the first day of college classes (especially when you had already practically begged the Dean to let you in because you applied too late). Emma had tossed the idea around for too long before finally deciding on the Cambridge School of Culinary Arts – the summer after graduating high school.

Late admission made you look bad. Being late to the first day made you look even worse.

After circling the parking lot for ten minutes just praying for a place to open up (it wouldn't, it was already past 8:00 A.M.), she finally decided to park in the grass, ignoring the "No Parking" sign and barely cutting her car off before sprinting towards the classroom.

By the time she had arrived at the classroom, Emma was completely out of breath, her chest tightening promptly inside – she was so worried about being late that she had barely had time to concentrate on how nervous she actually was. College was going to be different from high school. All of her friends were scattered throughout the United States to Stanford and Princeton and even Harvard. Starting culinary school meant a whole new set of friends. New people to surround herself with.

With a huff, Emma slung the door open (her blonde hair matted to her sticky forehead – she probably looked like a complete wreck). All eyes turned towards her and she could feel her face growing redder by the second.

"Well, good morning, Miss…?" The professor gave a sigh of annoyance before digging around on the desk to find the roster.

"Swan. Emma Swan."

The professor – Emma glanced behind her towards the white board to read 'Miss Mills' written across it – slid her glasses back up her nose to give a stern look towards the blonde. "So glad you could finally join us, Miss Swan. I'll let it slide because it's the first day but don't be late next time. Why don't you take a seat in the back next to Mr…?"

Miss Mills took the moment to scan the roster once more before a male voice from the back finished the sentence for her.

"Jones."

No. No way. This could not be happening.

Sure enough though, when Emma set her vision towards the back, blue irises and a cheeky grin where all she could see (already burned into her memory from countless days of attending high school together). Emma could feel the frustration boiling up inside. This was supposed to be a fresh start. But no, the universe apparently hated her and out of all of her classmates, Killian Jones – her biggest rival – had chosen to attend the exact same culinary school as her.

Sulking (internally, at least, she did not want Killian to have the privilege of thinking he had already won), Emma made her way back to the last table, intentionally scooting her stool further away from him before plopping down with a groan.

Through her peripheral vision, Emma could see Killian turn towards her, sticking his hand out jokingly for her to shake.

"Killian Jones," he teased. The bastard was a complete idiot, "introducing" himself as if she didn't know already who he was.

She did not give him the satisfaction, keeping her eyes focused on Miss Mills and the annoyingly long syllabus that she was droning on and on about.

When she didn't abruptly respond, Emma heard his chuckle (dark and throaty and it just ate at her from the inside out hearing that laugh again). "Ah, come on, Swan. I'm just trying to be friendly."

Emma felt like exploding. Was he seriously pulling this stunt already? Willing herself to stay calm, she cautiously turned towards him, whispering low so that they would not disturb the rest of the class.

"Out of all the culinary schools in the world, you just had to pick this one."

Killian clicked his tongue, shaking his head, smug look and all. "Now, now, lass. I applied early in our senior year. If I remember correctly, on graduation night, you still had yet to apply to a school. So the proper question would be, why did _you_ pick this one?"

He was right. God, she hated to admit it (she'd rather die from a thousand burning suns that admit to his face that he was right). Instead of responding, Emma pulled out her notebook and pretended to take notes, feeling him scoot closer towards her so that their stools were paired, thigh-to-thigh. The heat that was him radiated against her and she felt a lump in her throat the size of Boston that was almost impossible to swallow. (She would be lying if she said that he was not attractive. He was – and he knew it. But every single time he opened his mouth was a reminder of what made him, well, less attractive).

Leaning in close, she could feel his lips barely ghosting against her ear, speaking so low that only she could hear. "Just couldn't stay away from me could you, love?"

"Shut up, Jones," Emma spat, eyes still focused forward.

"Nonetheless," he shrugged, moving back in his stool, and purposefully grazing his finger against her bare arm, feeling the pride swell inside at the goosebumps that covered her flesh. "I am not disappointed, Swan. Rivalry makes me a better man, and an even better chef."

Unable to stand it any longer, Emma finally angled her body towards his, bringing a smug look upon her face to match his, eyebrows arching just the same. "We'll see about that."


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of freshly baked goods filled the apartment, a wide variety of icing containers scattered across the kitchen island. Emma took the spare moment to pull her golden locks back into a messy ponytail, having the timer go off just seconds later. With a huff, she slipped on her oven mitt and pulled the warm cupcakes out, setting them carefully on the counter before shoving another batch inside.

Wiping her forearm across her sweaty brow, she grabbed the mixer and began to put together another batch from scratch. Baking was always Emma's way of getting out her frustrations. It was her go-to remedy (it always made her feel better _and_ she got delicious sweets out of it - not a bad deal really).

Emma was so closely hovered over the buzzing mixer that she didn't hear the sound of her apartment door opening and closing. The whirring of the beater was loud in her ears, her face scrunched in concentration to get the recipe just right.

Ruby had to clear her throat once, twice, before finally tapping Emma on the shoulder from behind, causing Emma to jump, batter splattering onto both her and the kitchen.

Holding her shaky hand across her chest, Emma panted, reaching with her other hand to find a rag to wipe the substance off of her shirt. "God, Ruby. You scared the hell out of me."

Ignoring her and placing her hands on her narrow hips, Ruby gave a quick look around the kitchen, the ends of her mouth tilting down in a frown. Finally her eyes landed back on Emma's (green and wide and anxious), the timer beeping incessantly in the background. "You're baking. What's wrong?"

Emma shrugged nonchalantly, quickly avoiding eye contact with the brunette as she scurried over to the oven to pull out the almost burnt cupcakes. "What makes you think that something is wrong?"

"Oh come on, Emma. We've known each other for far too long now. You always bake when you're upset. So what's the story this time?"

With a sigh, Emma placed the cupcakes down onto the counter, biting her bottom lip with so much pressure that it almost started to bleed. Baking was supposed to get her mind _off_ of her problems. But she knew that there was no way she could avoid not telling Ruby. "I ran into Killian today."

After a few moments of silence, Emma finally looked up the meet Ruby's shocked gaze, her expression much like Emma's earlier that morning when she had first seen him again.

Sputtering, Ruby began questioning, her voice hurried and full of panic. "Killian? As in Killian Jones? The one that-"

"Yes, Ruby. _That_ Killian," Emma promptly interrupted, taking the cupcakes out of the tin to place them onto a serving plate. "He's opened a new restaurant down by the water."

Ruby watched Emma place the cupcakes one by one onto the tray before she picked up the pastry bag full of lemon icing, squirting a bit onto each. Finally having enough of the silence, Ruby decided to press the issue more. "So what are you going to do?"

Emma dropped the bag onto the counter with a plop, raising her arms – and voice – in annoyance, which, she considered to herself, was good. At the moment, she would rather be angry and bitter than sad and crying. She did enough of that ten years ago.

"What am I supposed to do? Waltz back up to him and forgive him for everything that happened?"

"He doesn't even know what happened, Emma. Maybe this is fate giving you a second chance," Ruby suggested, attempting to sneak away one of the cupcakes before Emma swatted her hand away, going back to her job of icing.

As she spread the frosting across the cupcakes, Emma snorted, trying her best to stay focused on the task at hand. "A second chance? With Killian Jones? I didn't even want the first chance. You know how much I hate him."

"Oh please," Ruby nagged, swiftly picking up a cupcake and stuffing it into her mouth before Emma had time to protest, speaking with her mouth fun of lemony goodness. "You two hate each other just as much as I hate your cupcakes."

Watching Ruby carefully, her words struck a chord in Emma, somewhere deep that had not been stirred in a very long time. She did hate Killian. _She did_ – she thought, mostly in an attempt to convince herself.

Maybe it wasn't so much hate as it was bitterness. Because if he didn't know completely about what happened ten years ago, then perhaps it was not completely his fault.

But that didn't stop the hurt and pain it caused her.

(_Still_ causes her)

Ruby, sensing that Emma was struggling internally with herself over the matter, licked the icing off of her fingers before reaching with her clean hand and grabbing Emma's. "Look, my point is that maybe Killian came back into your life for a reason. I think you owe it to yourself, and him, to find out what that might be."

Giving Ruby a hopeful smile, Emma squeezed her hand. She knew that her best friend only had her best interest at heart. After all, Ruby was the one that was there to pick up the pieces after everything had happened – when Emma was broken, alone, and empty. With a sigh, she gave Ruby a quick nod, releasing her hand to continue icing the mountain of cupcakes she had baked in her frustration.

"Tell me you at least got his number."

With a huff of annoyance – Ruby never learned to drop certain matters, instead pressing the issue until she got all of the answers she craved – Emma stuck her hand into the pocket of her jeans, digging out the business card inside. After she had changed out of her professional wear, Emma had almost thrown the card away immediately (or shredded or burned. Really whatever she felt like at the moment).

But a small prick in her heart told her to keep it, the card taking up current residence in her jeans. Flipping the card over in her fingers a few times, she finally slid it across the counter to Ruby. "He wants me to review his restaurant."

Emma hesitantly watched Ruby as she thought the problem over, finally sliding it back to Emma to place on top of her cell phone as confirmation. With an encouraging smile, Ruby gave her a simple answer. "So do it."

* * *

The door to the kitchen burst open, David sprinting into the room as best he could given the armload of bags he was carrying. Shuffling to the counter, he placed the bags down, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants before turning towards Killian, speaking swiftly as he began putting away supplies.

"Hey, man. Sorry I'm late. The supplier was behind with the produce and some of the employees were supposed to be off the clock, so we were left with a big mess and –"

David's voice trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder towards his boss and best friend. Killian had a steaming pot already going, absentmindedly stirring.

Raising an eyebrow at his unusual behavior, David stopped his job to walk closer, calling his friend's name out in hesitance. "Killian?"

Barely registering the question, he idly hummed. "Hmm?"

With a quizzical look on his face, David pushed his hands into the pockets of his uniform, cocking his head to the side in question. "You alright there? How did the talk go this morning?"

"The talk?" Killian deadpanned, continuing his stirring as a quiet hum escaped his mouth (definitely _not_ normal Killian behavior), the tune melodious and almost giddy in the kitchen.

"Your presentation at the food critics meeting?" David clarified, taking a step closer.

Killian shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "Oh. That talk. I suppose it went well."

"You seem a little distracted." The tone in David's voice was filled with more curiosity then concern. It was strange for his friend to act like this.

(Almost as if a few short hours had changed his life forever)

(He didn't know it then but it had)

Killian slowly turned around, placing the spoon down and leaning back against the warm stove, his fingers gripping the edges until they turned white as he looked everywhere around the room but in David's direction. With a quick inhale and exhale, Killian's eyes finally met his best friend's. "I ran into Emma today."

"Emma? The one from college?"

"Aye," Killian confirmed with a quick smile (so hasty that if David had not been paying attention he would have missed it completely), "that bloody infuriating lass who drove me crazy for far too many years."

Studying his friend, David carefully watched Killian – his blue eyes unfocused but happy, small smile mysteriously appearing before vanishing, and the tell-tell sign of Killian's anxiety, scratch behind his ear. David gave a teasing scoff as he too leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms casually. "Well you don't exactly seem upset about seeing her again. Didn't she leave you after she failed out of culinary school?"

"Technically we were never together, per se," Killian explained, his hands leaving their tight grip on the counter to run anxiously through his dark locks. "Honestly, mate, I don't even really know what transpired between us. It all happened so fast. And I thought that I'd never see her again."

"So how did she react?"

"Same old Emma," Killian chuckled, shaking his head as his mind wondered towards her once again. "Let's just say she was less than happy to see me. Stubborn and obstinate as always but god, she was beautiful."

David instantly recognized the look on Killian's face (it was the same as when he had met his wife Mary-Margaret), pure happiness and full of hope, the look of a man who had fallen hard – who looked as if had lost his most precious treasure and then suddenly found it again after years of searching the world. Pressing the issue, as his best friend and employee, David knew that it was his responsibility to offer full support to his friend. "Do you think you'll see her again?"

"I don't know. It's all up to her."

Taking a final step closer, David placed his hand on Killian's shoulder, patting it with encouragement. "Well if it's meant to work out, Killian, it will. I don't think it's by accident that you ran into each other again after all these years."

Managing a small smile, Killian nodded his head. "We'll see, mate. We'll see."

* * *

Emma ran her fingers over the stiff business card in her shaky hands, her heart beating loudly in her ears and her blood pumping erratically as she typed in the number on her phone (only to quickly erase it and repeat the cycle again). She considered Ruby's encouragement, the words ringing loudly in her head until they softened into a dull echo.

There was no denying that Emma had thought about him over the ten years apart. Anytime she toured a new restaurant kitchen for a review, her mind often drifted towards him and their years together – rivals in the kitchen, always competing, the adrenaline never enough for her. She remembered the high she would get from going head-to-head with him, and she knew he felt the same way.

The rivalry (hot and irritating and completely drenched with sexual tension) kept both of them going. Emma knew that she wouldn't be half the cook she was today if it weren't for him. He was right (those words he had spoken to her on the first day of culinary school rushing back suddenly, wedged between a flood of uncomfortable emotions) – they made each other better cooks.

With a groan, Emma fell back onto her bed, blonde hair spilling around her form in waves. Rubbing at her eyes until she saw black spots, Emma knew what needed to be done. And if she was going to force herself to do it, it was going to have to be quick – like ripping off a band-aid.

Her fingers flying across the screen, Emma rapidly typed in his number and pressed the call button. With each ring, growing louder and louder in her quiet bedroom, she felt her heart rate speed up, but nothing prepared her for the sound of his voice filling up her tiny space.

"Hello, this is Killian Jones."

Suddenly, Emma felt as if she had lost her voice again, mouth going dry and throat closing up with each silent beat. Pulling the phone away from her ear, Emma almost decided to end the call, that is, until she heard his cocky voice once more (she could practically _see_ his smirk through the phone). "Let me guess – Emma?"

Hearing his confidence gave Emma a surge of power. Sitting up straighter, she put on her best professional voice, knowing it was the only way she was going to make it out of this conversation with her sanity intact. "Mr. Jones."

Killian chuckled, and it instantly softened her heart (he always had a way with that. She didn't know how but his smile could always light up a room). His voice came through once more, full of poise and conceit. "I knew it wouldn't take long but, darling, even your rashness has surprised me."

Emma scoffed, and she knew he couldn't see her rolling her eyes but she did it anyways. _Idiot_. "I'm calling on behalf of The Boston Herald. We would like to review your restaurant."

"Swan, if you just want to ask me out on a date, all you have to do is ask," he smoothly replied, tongue in cheek. (_God, the nerve of this man_).

A long groan escaped Emma's mouth as her walls fell down temporarily, chastising the annoyingly frustrating man on the other end of the phone. "God, Killian, I'm trying so hard to keep this professional but apparently you haven't changed one bit."

"Now there's the Emma Swan I know."

Her heart slammed back into her throat as she willed herself to calm down and put her best professional voice on. It wasn't like her to lose control so quickly in a situation, but with Killian it was always a different story, constantly trying to get a rise out of her.

The long silence went on and she could tell that Killian felt just as awkward as she did. Humming in the air, low static over the phone, Emma could hear his heavy breathing into the receiver. Glancing down at her planner, she knew that she needed to end this call, not knowing how much more of the tension she could take. "How does Friday at noon sound?"

"For a date?" he teasingly shot back, obviously trying his best to remain in control of the situation (all he was doing was making himself look like a complete fool).

"For my review, Mr. Jones," Emma spat back, increasingly growing in aggravation. She had no idea how she had managed to put up with it for so long back in college.

"Ah, so now we're back to that. Friday is fine."

She could almost hear the disappointment in his voice. But it didn't matter to her (it couldn't. _Killian Jones_ couldn't matter to her). Writing in cursive across her planner, she finally snapped it shut. "Good. I will pencil you in."

"I look forward to it, Emma." Her name rolled off his tongue in a fashion that made her heart leap and she abruptly pulled the phone away to end the call.

How was she going to make it through this? Thinking of what she had just put herself through (and everything he had put her through during their time together), Emma instantly regretted her decision. Ruby better be right about this.

* * *

**Ten Years Earlier**

The classroom was abuzz with chatter by the time Emma had reached the room (five minutes early to be exact – a new record for the blonde). It was officially mid-term, and how she had already survived two months with Killian Jones seated adjacent was beyond her. But thankfully today was full of new promises – the day Miss Mills would assign partners for the final exam projects (which hopefully meant a new seat far away from the smug bastard beside her).

"Settle down, class," Miss Mills chimed, pulling Emma from her thoughts as she cleared her throat. "I know you are all excited, as I will be assigning partners today for your final project. You will work with this person throughout the remainder of the semester, so it is best that you get to know each other well. Although you will be working closely with your partner, your grade is your own. The final will be composed of a project in the kitchen and a written exam. Oh and a little hint, apples are always extra points."

The class snickered at her last comment; it was quite obvious she had some sort of weird thing for apples. Anyone who had ever taken her class would tell you that. Want an automatic A? Just create a new dish with a spin on apples - guaranteed love from Miss Mills.

The professor began going through her list, calling out names in pairs as the students began shifting seats, excited chatters and disappointed moans filling the classroom. Emma began glancing around the room, watching everyone pair up one by one, bringing it down to only a few left (and _no_, the odds did not look good right now).

"Miss Swan…"

Emma lifted her head a little too quickly, head spinning accompanied by a sharp ache. She rubbed her temple, wincing in pain, before finally looking on towards the professor (eyes full of hope and pleading).

"You will be working with Mr. Jones," Miss Mills instructed with a quick nod before moving further down the list to the next pair.

_Of course._ It was now apparent that life just hated her.

Trying her best to keep calm, Emma could practically feel the rage boiling inside knowing that she would have to spend the next few weeks not only tolerating the man beside her, but also have to work with him (in the kitchen and studying together and _no this was not going to end well at all_).

"Alright, now that you have your partners, we will be taking a tour of the facility kitchens that you will be using in preparation for your final projects. So stay close and pay attention."

Miss Mills led the class out of the room and down the hall towards the kitchens. Emma immediately bound up from her seat, almost running towards the front to avoid having to speak to Killian. A few more moments of bliss wouldn't hurt.

After weeks of studying and boring lectures, it was finally time for all of their hard work to pay off. It was the moment she had been dreaming about her whole live. Emma wanted nothing more than to open her own bakery someday; and running her fingers across the cool stainless steel appliances only gave her further confirmation.

Cooking was an adrenaline. Some people got it from running or saving other people's lives as a fireman. But for Emma, making a new and successful creation topped the list. Glancing around the kitchen as Miss Mills gave the normal safety instructions, Emma knew that she had made the right choice. Killian Jones wouldn't bring her down or get in her way. This was her time to shine.

"Well, hello there partner."

Emma groaned, feeling Killian's breath warm on her neck from behind, the class trailing out of the kitchen in front of her.

"I'm not in the mood, Killian," she snapped back at her partner, crossing her arms across her chest and taking a few steps forward behind her classmates who were traveling to another part of the kitchen.

"Ah, come on, Swan. Lighten up," he teased, pulling her blonde braid from behind playfully. "You're going to have to get used to me seeing as we will be working together closely for the remainder of the semester."

Every word Killian spoke always just added fuel to the fire, kindling a spark that would eventually turn to rage. Emma inhaled and exhaled, uncrossing her arms to clench her fists at her side (willing herself not to get herself kicked out of college for hitting him – but sometimes it was oh so tempting). "Yeah well that doesn't mean that I have to like you while doing it. Just enough to tolerate you."

"Aye. Just don't drag me down, lass," Killian warned, finally coming to walk beside her, following her stride for stride. "I've got a reputation to protect."

Emma gave an unladylike snort accompanied by her famous eye roll (when Killian was around she just couldn't help it). "Reputation? As what, the biggest idiot on campus?"

"Best chef on campus."

Turning towards him, Emma gave a hearty laugh, her eyebrows arching high before her smirk mirrored his. "In your dreams, Killian."

"Dreams, hmm?" Killian questioned, before walking towards her, backing her up against the metal counter. Emma winced when she felt the cold of the steel on her lower back, shirt riding up to expose skin, his arms coming to either side of her body to pin her between the counter and him. Swallowing hard, she realized that he was too close for comfort. She watched his Adam's apple slowly bob up and down with his words, voice low and husky against her forehead, sending a ball of lust straight to Emma's core. "Do you dream about me, Emma?"

"Oh god. Does everything have to turn into an innuendo for you?" Emma managed to keep her voice straight throughout the sentence, not wanting to let on that he was clearly the one in control at the moment.

"Well it does keep things interesting," he shrugged with a quick wink, blue eyes dazzling in front of her. His breath was warm against her face, only inches apart as his eyes darted down towards her lips and then back up to her emerald eyes.

Watching him carefully gave Emma an idea. The only way to win was to fight fire with fire.

"Interesting, hmm?" she whispered, letting her hands fall down towards his hips, fingers finding his belt loops to pull his body closer towards hers. "Like eating raw cookie dough when you know it's wrong?"

Killian gave a soft groan as their hips met, his eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. Smirking internally, she traced her fingers up his toned stomach, muscles rippling beneath the cotton fabric, taking note of how he moaned when she grinded her hips against his (and she was surprised at how much this was already having an effect on him, arousal becoming hard and hot against her thigh). "Or how about perfecting the ideal meringue for a slice of lemon pie?"

She kept her voice low and seductive, knowing that her plan was working when his breathing became short and shallow. Standing up on her tiptoes, Emma allowed her mouth to skim his scruffy jaw, ending up at his ear where she blew cool air, feeling him shiver beneath her. Taking an extra leap, she cautiously nibbled on his earlobe, giving it a tug before whispering once more. "Or perhaps adding a dash of cinnamon on hot chocolate?"

Killian gave a groan as her lips met his ear and Emma smiled against his skin. For added measure, she brought her hand down towards his strained jeans, running her fingers along his prominent length before palming him through his pants.

All of a sudden, Emma pulled back, dipping out from his embrace to walk towards the exit of the room. Killian's eyes flew open at her absence, suddenly feeling like a fool for letting her play him like that.

With a loud groan, Killian yelled towards the blonde seductress, her hips swaying with every step (_yes, he was definitely going to need a cold shower after this_). "You are going to regret that, Swan. You're playing with fire."

Emma turned around quickly as she continued to walk backwards, smirk proud on her face and arms held out in victory. "Bring on the blaze, Jones."


	3. Chapter 3

Emma griped the small clutch in her hands, heels clicking against the pavement outside the restaurant as she swung the door open. She was late (of course) and completely out of breath, eyes scanning the dining room for her best friend. Finally spotting the brunette sitting at the table by herself, Emma breathed a sigh of relief, quickly maneuvering through the crowded restaurant with her sights set on Ruby.

Approaching the table, Ruby's grin widened, accompanied by a playful eye roll at her predictable best friend. Emma pulled the chair out before unceremoniously plopping down, exhaling loudly.

"Oh my god, Ruby, I'm so sorry I'm late."

"It's okay, Emma. It's pretty much expected now. I went ahead and ordered for you," she explained, pushing the basket of cold dinner rolls towards the blonde. "So, nice place here. You're not going to completely murder them in the review like you did last time, right?"

Emma laughed after finally managing to catch her breath, heading falling back and golden curls spreading across her shoulders, picking up the dinner roll only to scrunch her nose in disgust afterwards. "That was two years ago. Although it's not looking too good now but don't ask my full opinion until after dessert."

Chuckling at her best friend, the two made small talk until their food arrived, thanking the petite French waiter before digging in. The restaurant, _La Barnardin_, was nice - small, quaint, and ridiculously expensive. Although she was cautious at first, Emma cut into her grilled chicken with a light honey mustard glaze, moaning in pleasure at the exquisite taste dancing across her tongue. Perfection.

(Oh yes, they had definitely earned all four of those stars. Two years can do a lot of good for a restaurant).

With a smile, Ruby laughed, raising her eyebrow in delight as the blonde in front of her consumed her food hastily. Smirking, she finally put down her fork, arms crossed against her chest before motioning towards Emma in question. "So, did you do it?"

"Do what?" Emma inquired in an unladylike manner, mouth full of food and honey mustard glaze smeared across her pink lips.

"Call Killian."

"Oh." Emma swallowed with a sigh, picking up the napkin in her lap to dab at her messy mouth. "Um, yeah, actually I did."

"Really?" Ruby was taken aback, mouth smirking in amazement. "You're just full of surprises today."

Setting her fork down, Emma held her hand out towards her friend, her voice firm and serious. "Look, it's not like we're going out on a date or anything. I'm just reviewing his restaurant."

"Mmhm." The brunette grinned, shaking her head in amusement and folding her hands up under her chin, feet tapping excitedly on the floor. Even though Emma was struggling to figure out what everything meant, Ruby was certainly enjoying her friend's denial. "So when's the big day?"

"Friday. I only have to tolerate him until then." With one fist clenched at her side, Emma scooped up the last piece of chicken onto her fork before putting the savory piece into her mouth and pushing her now empty plate away. "And then I don't ever have to see his smug face again."

Moving her clean plate to the side as well, Ruby huffed in annoyance. "Don't you think you're being a bit too hard on him? It's been ten years. People change."

Emma paused, studying her friend's face, her brow scrunching in confusion. "Ruby, why are you pushing me towards Killian?"

"I just want what's best for you, Emma," she admitted, placing her hand on top of the blonde's.

Emma gave a laugh, accompanied by a snort, causing the couple next to them to eye the pair in concern. Face turning red in embarrassment, Emma took her hand away from Ruby's to twirl the cloth napkin in her lap around her finger, eyes unfocused and voice dropping to a whisper. "And you think that's Killian?"

"I just think you need to explore all of your options. You can't deny that there's always been something between you two."

Emma shrugged, mouth tilting down into a frown. "Perhaps. But he's just _so_ cocky."

"And completely in love with you! It's like two kids teasing each other because it's the only way they know how to express how they really feel."

Emma's mouth went dry at Ruby's assumption, heart racing away once again. Killian wasn't in love with her. _He couldn't be_. There was too much history for things to work out (bad and complicated history at that – plus he was just _so_ annoying).

With an encouraging smile, Ruby leaned closer towards Emma. "Do the right thing. Just be patient with him and see where things go."

"I just don't want to get hurt again." Even Emma was surprised at the admission that had carelessly slipped out of her mouth, the tone soft and broken. She hadn't been this open with her "feelings" (if you could even call them that) towards Killian since the incident, usually trying her best to bottle them all inside.

But if there was anyone who understood the situation, it was Ruby.

"This isn't like last time, Emma. Circumstances have changed. But I think the only way to completely move on from all of this is to be honest with him. Tell him the truth about what happened. He deserves to know."

Although Emma couldn't admit it out loud, Ruby was right.

(When it came to matters of the heart, she always was)

* * *

She was in absolute awe, a shot of jealously bolting through her bones as she parked her car in front of _Dockside_. It was everything he had ever talked about (_how is it that she was the one left with a broken heart and empty dreams?_). The wooden building was nestled comfortably beside the bay, a pier off to the side, small boats bobbing along with the movement of the water.

Emma's eyes darted everywhere, her heart giving a light squeeze beneath her breastbone. Inhaling the sea air only made the nightmare even more real, chills running down her spine. Killian had done it. And honestly, at one point, she would have actually been happy to see him reaching his dreams. But things and circumstances change, and now this place only gave her a bare feeling of the dreams she had given up – for him (_no, _because_ of him_).

Mustering up all the courage she could, Emma entered the restaurant. And if she thought that the outside was impressive, she was absolutely floored at the interior. Wooden walls, anchors, the ship's helm on display behind the hostess stand. It was beautiful.

Turning around the corner, she took in the empty dining room, waiters dashing around to prepare for the dinner hour to start – but no Killian. Her watch confirmed that she didn't have much time, so with a loud exhale Emma laid her hand on the shoulder of the nearest employee.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for Killian Jones."

The blonde-haired man turned around, eyes lighting up at the sight of her. "Emma?"

Emma wrinkled her nose, cocking her head to the side in confusion. "Yes. Do I know you?"

"David. David Nolan. I was Killian's roommate in college," he explained, extending his hand out towards Emma.

"Oh yeah. Sorry," Emma apologized, embarrassed for forgetting him (how could she after that one time – but that's another story in itself), taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "It's good to see you, David."

"Likewise. I know Killian feels the same way."

"Excuse me?" she laughed in confusion (partially from the uncomfortable nature that was settling into the air around them), pulling her hand away and tucking it against her side.

"I mean, he's in the kitchen." David pointed behind her towards the door in the back with a flustered chuckle. "But we don't have long before the dinner rush starts so you might want to make it quick."

"Thanks."

Emma shook off the awkwardness and scurried through the empty dining room, weaving in and out of the circular tables, covered with fancy cloth, elaborate flower centerpieces decorating the middle. She slowed down to run her fingers over the tops of the chairs, the need sizzling through her fingertips and straight to her heart – imagining a small bistro of her own, her cakes and baked goods the talk of the town, the sign _Swan's Sweet Treats_ displayed proudly out front.

In her daydreaming, Emma's heel caught on the leg of one of the chairs, causing her to stumble and fall, that is until a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, warm and masculine. "Easy there, love."

Without even glancing up, her eyes shut tight in apprehension of her clash to the floor (a fate she'd met one too many times in her clumsy life), Emma knew who her savior was. Killian gave a chuckle when he looked down at the woman in his arms, wrapping even tighter around her on instinct and pulling her closer.

"Well, well, well. Good evening, Swan," he crooned, blue eyes sparkling in mischief as he helped her up, arms still enveloping Emma's form. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Emma huffed, catching her breath before wriggling out of his arms and dusting off her dress. She could feel him tense as she took a step back and put on her best professional voice, his face deflating in disappointment. "As a food critic for _The Boston Herald_ we are required to do a surprise pre-visit a few days before the review, so I figured I would stop by just to check things out."

Giving her a sharp nod, Killian mouth turned up into a smile. "Of course. You've entered through the dining room and the kitchen is right behind me," he explained, motioned to the door behind him.

Emma followed suit, turning around to place her hands on the cold, metal swinging door that led to his kitchen. His warm hand on her bare shoulder stopped her though. She could feel the heat of him radiating from behind her as his front lightly pressed against her back, sending a jolt straight to her core. With his lips grazing her ear, Killian smoothly whispered, "And if you want to check me out as well, I wouldn't be opposed to the idea."

Scoffing at his attempt to flirt (the man was a walking, talking innuendo), Emma gave the door a push, walking into the kitchen with him following behind closely.

The stainless steel was cold to the touch, her fingers grazing the smooth surfaces in awe. From the second she had stepped inside, Emma couldn't control her heartbeat – it was like falling in love, not being able to control the racing of her heart, the sweatiness of her palms and the way her jaw hung slack in wonder. It was everything she had ever wanted (and never got – especially the expensive mixer sitting on the counter).

As she glanced around the empty kitchen, biting her bottom lip in amazement, Emma finally saw Killian out of the corner of her eye, smirking as he leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest in pride.

"See something you like, love?"

Emma shook her head in disbelief, allowing a light laugh to pass through her lips. "I have to admit, Mr. Jones. You've really outdone yourself."

"You know me, Swan," he shrugged, stepping forward to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. Emma watched his eyes dart down to her lips before he licked them, a whisper against her skin, "I always put out."

For once, Emma just rolled her eyes (no need in allowing him to think he had already won so easily). Glancing over his shoulder, she spotted a freshly baked – sinfully delicious looking - chocolate cake resting inside a large glass container. With a mischievous smile, she ducked out of his space, walking towards the cake.

"May I?" she inquired with a grin, one hand resting on the lid, the other place firmly against her narrow hips.

His smile mirrored hers, eyebrows cocked, before sauntering closer until his elbows rested on the table next to her. "Be my guest."

Emma lifted the lid carefully and placed it on the counter, taking the knife to cut a slice off for her. As she cut the cake, Killian began rummaging through drawers, finally finding a fork, which he held out to her. Fake smile plastered on her face as she took the utensil (_sometimes this was just too easy_), Emma stuck her fork into the cake, slowly lifting the dessert to her lips.

Her tongue darted out to lick off the icing, his hot gaze never leaving her – watching her tongue swirl around the frosting before she licked it off of her lips. When she had decided that she had teased him long enough, the chocolate still warm and rich on her tongue, Emma slid the fork into her mouth, chewing the cake slowly with a moan. "Oh my god. That's fantastic."

He snickered, scooting his body closer to hers, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper. "I always have made the best chocolate cake."

"Second best," she quickly corrected, pointing her fork out towards him. He shook his head in amusement, his eyes following her fork as she stabbed the cake once more, lifting the dessert to her mouth (Killian's heated gaze locked on her lips, she could feel the warmth of him radiating against her, their thighs nearly touching).

"Mmm," Emma moaned once more, eyes fluttering closed and head falling back in pleasure. "Oh god, yes. This is amazing."

"Is it now?" he stuttered, heart beating fast. His body jumped when her hand made contact with his thigh, hand rubbing along his leg.

"Absolutely." Emma knew she needed a big finale. Glancing down at the cake, Emma stuck her finger in the icing, swirling it around and coating her hand in the dark frosting. Feeling his gaze on her every movement, she lifted her finger to her lips, licking off the icing before sticking her finger inside her mouth and sucking hard, a moan of satisfaction escaping. "Mmm, yeah."

Killian swallowed hard, every nerve on edge, and Emma knew that he was becoming aroused at the sight of her (that he was already imagining her licking and sucking and pleasuring him, down on her knees, head positioned below his torso as his hands threaded through her blonde locks to pull her closer).

Emma released her finger with a wet plop, smiling at him before running her hand up higher and palming his erection through his pants. Killian groaned at the contact, moving closer to her on instinct.

Taking a step forward, her hand still squeezing him below, Emma leaned in to whisper, "Well that was very…pleasing." Killian let out a strangled moan at her words, her hands unceasing until she took a step back, smirking as she sauntered towards the exit, voice thrown over her shoulder. "See you Friday, Jones."

Killian dropped his head into his hands with the clash of the door closing behind her, a growl leaving his throat before muttering to himself. "Now why does this seem so familiar?"

* * *

**Ten Years Earlier**

Emma lifted her hand up to the door, only to lower it once again. It was a process she had been repeating for the last few seconds, willing herself to gain the courage to just knock. Because Killian had been assigned as her finals partner, they were required to study together – both text and in the kitchen. The pair had arranged (unwillingly at that) to meet in Killian's dorm room to study the terms for their exam, the book in Emma's hand growing heavier at the thought.

With a loud exhale and a shot of energy running through her (her veins on fire, heart racing away until the jolt reached her fingertips), Emma finally knocked three short times, his muffled groan of "Come in!" emanating from the opposite side of the door.

Giving the door a push, Emma stepped inside, noticing Killian's hopeful face dropping at the sight of her. "Oh, it's you."

"Killian! No need to be rude," the nearby blond male scolded, giving Killian a rough push in protest before sticking his hand out towards Emma in introduction. "Hi, I'm David, Killian's roommate."

"Emma," she replied, shaking his hand quickly before releasing it. The energy in the air felt awkward and stuffy (the three standing around just waiting for someone to finally speak up). Emma noticed Killian and David exchanging glances (_they must have been close to have mental conversations, _Emma noted).

After a few more seconds of the tension filling the tiny dorm room, David nodded his head towards Killian in understanding, speaking as he headed towards the door. "And now I'm leaving. It was a pleasure to finally meet you Emma. Have fun studying you two."

Emma caught the teasing tone in David's voice as he left, leaving Emma alone with Killian (a position she never dreamed she would put herself in). It was almost as if they had discussed it – her – earlier, an uncomfortable feeling settling over Emma.

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, Emma sat down on his bed, letting herself sink into the dark blue cotton sheets. She could feel Killian's eyes on her with every move, reaching over to grab the textbook and open it, expertly avoiding his gaze. "So where should we start?"

"The beginning is usually best," he replied with a chuckle, never moving from his position at his desk, feet crossed and propped up comfortably on top.

Emma groaned (there was no way she was going to make it through this night without losing her sanity). "No need to be sarcastic, Killian. I'm already miserable enough that I have to be here alone with you. Let's just make this evening as enjoyable as it can be."

Killian stared at her and Emma swallowed under his perusal. She could see his jaw tighten and relax, tongue in cheek before he jumped up.

"Okay then."

She watched him as he swiftly moved about the room, lighting a few candles (_seriously, what college guy kept candles handy? Especially considering that they were against dorm rules_) before flicking the light switch off, a soft glow cast over the room. "What are you doing?" Emma finally questioned him, her voice raspier than intended.

"Making things comfortable. Let's face it, lass, we both don't particularly care for each other. But, if you set the right mood," he paused to press the play button on his stereo, soft and soothing music vibrating before he came to sit next to her on his bed, "even you can be pleasant."

There was a lump in her throat the size of Boston and Emma had never felt this unnerved around Killian. His close presence was not different (they constantly did this push and pull. Whatever "it" was exactly, neither knew). Angling her body towards his, Emma licked her lips, finally meeting his gaze through hooded eyes. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Take it how you will, love."

Without realizing it, their sides were touching (from shoulder to thigh – she honestly had no idea how it had happened). Emma shuttered under his gaze, his fingers now absentmindedly tracing circles on her bare knee, before he stopped to cup it (warm hands against her chilled skin). "All I'm saying is that with the right details, anything is possible."

"Anything?" Her voice was lower than intended but all reason flew out the window when his forehead landed against hers, nosing bumping (_and god, was this really happening?_).

"Mmhm," he hummed against her lips, barely ghosting over them as eyes fluttered shut in anticipation of the kiss to come.

"Hey, Killian, I forgot my –"

Emma and Killian jumped apart at the sound of David's voice, the door flying open and bright light flooding the dark room. "Why are the lights off?" he questioned before turning them on, his eyes wide and face growing red in embarrassment at the situation he had just interrupted (the couple sitting inches apart on Killian's bed, Emma's face flustered, the soft music still playing in the background to the melody of the flickering candles). "Oh. OH. Excuse me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's okay, I was just leaving," Emma stuttered (face red and mouth dry), grabbing her textbook to move off of the bed and quickly head towards the door.

"Emma, we didn't even study yet!" Killian argued, jumping up to follow closely behind her.

"I'm better at studying on my own," she countered, grabbing her purse from the table next to the door.

Killian was only two steps behind her, voice stressed as he reached out to touch her shoulder before pulling back, clenching his fist against his side. "Can I at least walk you home?"

"I'll be fine." Emma moved past David, avoiding his gaze (just as he was doing the same to her), to open the door and step into the hall.

With the door cracked behind her, the last thing she heard was David's confused voice as he addressed Killian.

"Dude, _what was that_?"

(Though flustered and confused, Emma was beginning to ask herself the same question.)


	4. Chapter 4

_What the hell was that?_

The question had been on repeat in Emma's mind since the incident in his kitchen earlier that evening. After leaving Killian high and dry, the blonde raced back to her apartment, quickly scattering her baking ingredients and utensils across the kitchen counter upon arrival. (If she kept this up with Killian Jones, Emma was going to be seriously concerned for her health – _someone_ had to eat everything she baked when upset).

Taking the beater in her shaky hands, Emma threw the ingredients in the bowl, not taking the time to properly measure before mixing them furiously, the knot in her chest tightening with each stir.

_What had she been thinking?_

Why had she come on to him like she did in college? She had changed, _he_ had changed. There was absolutely no explanation for her behavior. Feeling the tears prick her eyes, the anger boiling up inside over her stupidity (and he had eaten every moment of it up, taking it all in and never backing down, pushing her to her limits like he always did), Emma threw down the beater and shoved the bowl across the island, it unceremoniously falling to the floor with a thud.

Her head made contact with the cool counter, her fist clenching tighter as she banged it upon the surface, a choked sob escaping her raw throat.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

With every word whispered, her head repeatedly met the counter, not enough to hurt – just enough to dull the pain inside.

"Love, if you keep doing that there could be serious brain damage."

Emma swore her heart stopped at the sound of his voice, the lilt of it practically bouncing off the walls of her tiny abode. Her head shot up quickly, eyes going wide, wincing a bit when the pain rushed to her head. When her eyes landed on him though (eyes full of concern, tongue poked into his cheek), the pain spread, sending an ache that settled roughly beneath her breastbone.

"You," she growled, quickly wiping away the stray tear from her cheek before weaving her way around the counter, finger pointed out to him in defiance. "What the hell are you doing here? How do you know where I live? How did you even get inside my apartment?"

Killian held both hands up in surrender as she rambled in anger. "Swan, if you would just let me explain –"

"Did you follow me here?" the blonde interrupted, finally making her way to stand in front of him as she continued her rant, hands placed firmly on her narrow hips. "Are you seriously going to stalk me now?"

"Would you just bloody listen?" Killian raised his voice, taking another step towards her, his mouth turning down into a frown. Seeing her surprise at his outburst, she grew quiet, and he scratched behind his ear nervously (his eyes avoiding hers, voice dripping with truth and sincerity as he kept his head downcast). "I was worried about you."

Her jaw was set tight and she practiced the clenching and unclenching of her fist to the rhythm of her steadily pounding heart. Knowing he was too close for comfort, she took a step back, speaking harshly before dipping down to pick up the bowl she had thrown earlier. "Thanks but I don't need your pity or concern. You can exit the same way you entered."

"Swan – " He took a step forward, hand outstretching. His voice stopped short when he felt her icy glare piercing his skin. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Killian shrugged, voice barely above a whisper. "Can we just talk about this?"

"What's there to talk about?" she fired back, scurrying around the kitchen to begin cleaning up her mess. Emma could practically feel his gaze following her as she moved about the room.

"You always bake when you're upset." His voice was honest, and Emma felt the words twisting inside her heart like a knife. (He always did know her so well, and maybe that's the part that scared her most of all). Out of the corner of her eye, Emma could see him lean against the counter, arms going across his chest leisurely. "What was that back there?"

Emma huffed, picking up the rag nearby to scrub the counter, giving a grunt with each push as she continued to avoid his gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come on, lass. Are you daft? You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Throwing the dishtowel down angrily, Emma pressed her lips together in a thin line, moving around the counter to stand in front of him (and even though she was practically fuming, their height difference made her feel tiny in comparison to him). She pointed her finger out towards him, poking him in the chest defiantly with the raise of her voice. "Don't pretend like you know me, Killian Jones. You know absolutely _nothing_ about me."

"Well perhaps I'm trying," he countered, throwing his arms up in frustration. With a sigh, Killian ran his fingers through his messy dark locks, the silence enveloping them uncomfortably. "Maybe I just wanted to start things over between us."

Emma rolled her eyes, giving a quiet scoff, muttering under her breath as she avoided his gaze. "Not likely after everything you put me through in college. The damage has already been done."

The jolt of Killian's sarcastic laugh reverberated around the room, causing Emma to bite down hard on her bottom lip (the tears still threatening from earlier, each word he spoke seemingly closing her throat further as she tried her best to breathe).

"_You_ left me, Emma. Without any explanation, just a pathetic goodbye and then I didn't hear from you for ten years." He paused, taking one last step towards her and putting his hand on her forearm, before lowering his voice. "What happened that you're not telling me?"

She flinched at his touch, pulling her arm close to her side (she just wanted to crawl into herself, curl into a ball like she did when she was five and pretend all of it never happened). "Forget it, Killian."

"Please, love. I just want to know what's troubling you."

Her heart squeezed at his words (he always did have a way with it), but Emma knew that it was going to take more that pretty words to heal the wounds he had given her. She couldn't do this (not now, not with him). Knowing she needed to put some distance between them immediately, she took a step back, keeping her eyes focused on the floor beneath her bare feet. "I'll see you Friday at your restaurant for the review. Noon. Be prepared."

Emma could practically see him battling internally at the words, at the decision she had made for him (_there never was – or will be - an 'us'_). His jaw clenched and he gave a sharp nod of his head, his face sullen as he backed away towards the door. "Fine. But don't say I didn't try."

It wasn't until she heard the door click behind him that she let it go, her head falling back down to the counter with a thud as she couldn't help the grumble under her breath.

"You're a little too late for that."

* * *

The quietness of the hallway outside Emma's apartment did nothing to soothe Killian's ache, the anger inside of him gently subsiding to worry (and partial frustration). There was no doubt that she was holding something back, something huge, something that had apparently caused ten years of anguish and hurt.

He couldn't help but feel responsible for the flecks of sadness in her emerald eyes. Over the course of their partnership (it never technically was a friendship), he had pushed her more than she deserved. But she always pushed right back. He knew she could always take it.

"Killian?" A soft feminine voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he glanced up to meet the brunette's confused expression; a slow smile spread across her face as she held out her hand to him. "Hi, you probably don't remember me. I'm –"

"Ruby," he acknowledged, accepting her hand with a firm shake. "I remember, lass."

She giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes turning towards him in question. "What are you doing here?"

Killian sighed, glancing towards their apartment door, responding with a disgruntled shrug. "Seems Emma and I got into a little spat. Nothing new."

"What happened this time?" Ruby teasingly inquired, folding her arms across her chest.

"It doesn't matter." He paused for his eyes to meet hers, and Ruby's face softened seeing the distress written in his features. "I don't think that's what is bothering her anyways."

"Oh." The brunette grew quiet, drawing her bottom lip nervously into her mouth, her grip on her purse growing tighter.

Killian studied her sudden change of demeanor, exhaling loudly as he took a step closer. "You know something don't you?"

She winced, knowing it was not her place to speak on the matter. "Killian…"

"Please, Ruby," he quickly interrupted, trying his best not to raise his voice in the tiny hall (knowing that the source of his confusion was only behind the door beside him). "I just want to help her."

"And you are the only one who can. But it is all up to her. It has to be in her own time."

In irritation, Killian shook his head, hands finding his own messy hair with a tug. He couldn't help but to take a step back, pacing the floor in confusion. "She's had ten years!"

Ruby sighed, and he couldn't help but feel responsible for putting her in this position (she was Emma's best friend after all). Glancing towards the door, she lowered her voice. "Just be patient with her. You don't know what she's been through."

"I'm trying." Any other time Killian would have been embarrassed by the pure heartache in his voice – tender and soft. But now, he didn't care. All he wanted was Emma's happiness (to heal her scars, mend the wounds that he had somehow created, bring joy into her life once again).

"I know you are. Despite what she may think, you are a good man, Killian Jones."

He could feel it blossoming from his heart, spreading outwards, coursing through his veins and making it all the way down to his toes – hope. Just a few simple words made his heart flutter (after all, if the girl's best friend is on your side, it definitely makes things easier). Killian chuckled softly, taking the moment to raise an eyebrow up at Ruby. "Put in a good word for me?"

And for the first time, she smiled back (confirmation that things could still work out, that a happy ending might not be as far-fetched as it seemed). With her hand on the doorknob, Ruby peered back over her shoulder at him, nodding her head in approval. "Believe me, I'm already on it."

* * *

**Ten Years Earlier**

She honestly didn't know what she had gotten herself into.

_College is fun_, they said. _You won't be able to get a job without a degree_, they said.

What they failed to mention was that she would end up having to be a partner with her worst enemy.

The study session, if it could even be labeled that, was a complete disaster. Emma honestly had no idea how things had escaladed so quickly. One minute she was opening her book to study, and the next all she wanted to do was kiss that smug little grin right off his face.

She wasn't going to deny it – Killian Jones was an attractive man. But this was the first moment where she had let her guard down around him. Somehow, for a brief second, Killian was able to break through her walls. She had felt vulnerable and strange and, if the butterflies in her stomach were any indication, very much turned on by him. (Although she quickly shoved those thoughts out of her head. A friends with benefits situation with him would never end well).

What Emma really needed was time (time to sort out her feelings and true intentions for him – time for him to figure things out as well). But with finals quickly approaching, there wasn't a spare moment to lose. They had to press forward, however awkward the situation might become.

The pair had arranged to utilize the school kitchen to work on their final piece – a three-course meal (starter, entrée, dessert) consisting of a side salad, filet minon with a side of mashed potatoes, and a creamy red velvet cake for dessert.

Emma breathed in deeply, palms flat against the swinging door of the culinary kitchen, allowing the air to fill her lungs before she slowly exhaled. The sooner she entered, the sooner she could get it over with. A surge of courage coursing through her veins, Emma roughly pushed on the door, allowing it to swing up in front of her to enter the room.

He was already there (of course, she was always the one that was late), leaning against the counter staring at his watch, apron already tied neatly around his body. Upon her quiet entrance, Emma couldn't help but let her gaze linger over his form – toned arms flexing as he tightened the apron across his lower back, dark hair tussled in the "I just rolled out of bed after having amazing sex" look. She felt the heat rush straight to her core, a slight blush creeping up her face at the very thought.

"Well it's about bloody time," Killian exclaimed, pushing off of the counter to saunter over towards her, the grin on his face growing bigger by the second. (Seeing his hips thrust forward like that did something to Emma, internally growling at herself for the unwelcomed thoughts).

"Let's just get this over with." She rolled her eyes, walking right past him and hoping that he didn't notice her nervousness. Normally she would be dreading to spend even one second alone with Killian (and in a sense, she still was), but not for the reasons she used to. Being alone with him used to be pure torture (solely because of who he was and the frustrations that he had caused her), but now being alone with him spurred dangerous thoughts – thoughts of moans and sweat and skin warm against each other, sparking something deep beneath the surface.

Swallowing thickly, Emma grabbed the apron from the rack, pulling it around her thin form and attempting to tie it correctly, fumbling from the shaking of her hands. Letting out a groan in frustration – really, how hard was it to tie a freaking bow? – Emma dropped the strings from behind, instead running a hand through her blonde hair.

She could feel him approach her from behind, his breath hot on her neck. Warm hands met her shoulder and Emma couldn't help the way her breath hitched with the contact, a shiver running up her spine and heat rushing to her core.

"Let me," he whispered, lips close to her ear as his hand left her shoulder, trailing down her back towards her hips. His hands lingered there for a moment tracing her curves and relishing in the feel of her beneath his fingertips. Emma allowed her eyes to flutter shut, taking a second to just forget everything – forget that it was him, _them_, and that this could all go terribly wrong.

Killian grabbed the strings, slowly tying the knot into a beautiful bow before giving it a gently tug.

"There. All set."

Emma turned her head towards him, her chin resting on her shoulder and eyes opening to meet his. "Thanks."

(She mentally cursed herself for the breathiness of her voice, hoarse and raspy – what was this effect that he had over her?)

He simply smiled, face lighting up in her presence. Knowing that if he stared at her any longer the situation would only grow more awkward, Killian cleared his throat, forcing his gaze away from hers. He took a step back, pointing towards the ingredients on the counter. "Why don't I start on the potatoes and you can work on the dessert? I know it's your favorite."

_What the hell was going on and who was this guy? _Emma clenched her teeth tightly in order to keep her jaw from dropping. Killian never cared about her like this before – and how did he even know that baking was her forte?

She forced a weak smile towards him, her body stiff and rigid in confusion. The air between them was thick and awkward and the stirring of ingredients the only sound filling the room. Occasionally, Emma threw a quick glance his way, only to find him already staring back at her. His face grew red in embarrassment at being caught (and this honestly felt like some sort of parallel universe – Killian being nice and checking her out? Helping her out like he actually _cared_?)

They worked in silence, him mashing the potatoes and her stirring the cake batter, the bag of flour sitting on the counter near her elbow. The occasional glances were only causing the tension in the room to grow and Emma could feel him inching closer towards her as the seconds ticked on in silence.

He gave a soft chuckle, breaking the awkward tension in the room. She turned towards him in question, raising an eyebrow at him. With a smile, he pointed towards her cheek. "Lass, you've got a little something right there."

"Where?" Emma questioned, wiping her hands across her cheek, "Here?"

"No," Killian confirmed, dipping his hand into the bag of flour and running his fingers across her face, streaking the white matter onto her skin, "Right here!"

"Killian Jones!" she scolded, trying her best to suppress a laugh. Emma watched him, hands clutching his own sides in laughter. She had never seen him this happy before and, squinting her eyes down at him, Emma smirked back in defiance. "You're going to pay for that!"

"Oh I intend to," Killian promised as her hand met his face, flour pasted against his cheeks before she ran her fingers through his dark hair, mixing the ingredients in his locks (nails scrapping against his scalp and the simple gesture sparked something that neither had intended).

Devious grin plaster on his face, Killian reached his hands into the mashed potatoes, throwing them in her direction with a splat against her face. Emma gave a yelp in surprise as the mush hit her, only spurring her on more as she advanced towards him.

Shrieks of laughter filled the kitchen, both Killian and Emma reaching for whatever food they could to throw at each other. She gave a snort when the potatoes met his mouth instead of his chest, causing him to spit the substance everywhere.

Shaking the potatoes off of his face, Killian reached for the spray nozzle of the sink, pulling it out and pointing it towards the blonde. Emma gasped when the cold water met her skin, drenching her hair and cream-colored shirt, the top sticking to her skin and doing nothing to hide what was beneath.

"Killian! This was a brand new shirt!" Emma gaped at him, trying her best to wring out the water from her top. And she didn't know how he did it but by the time she looked back in his direction, he had already made his way across the room towards her. Her breathing seemed to slow down (and her heart sped up) seeing him tower over her, eyes never leaving her.

"And I must say, love, it looks absolutely glorious clinging to your body like that."

The heat rushed to her cheeks as she ducked her head, trying her best to avoid his gaze. Warm fingers met her wet chin as he lifted her head up to look at him. Her stomach clenched in anticipation when his nose bumped against hers.

She hesitated for a second, starting to pull back until his arm wrapped around her waist, causing their hips to collide and a jolt of pleasure shoot through Emma's body – they were a perfect fit (and that's when she knew she was done for). With his forehead pressed firmly against hers, lips only a mere breath apart, Killian spoke softly. "Don't think. Just feel."

His lips met hers softly at first – tender (but god, Emma felt like she was on fire, sparks shooting throughout her body, toes curling in satisfaction). She met him head on, pushing and pulling just as much as he was, her hands working their way around his neck and into his hair. Years of pent up sexual tension met in their first kiss, and all rational thought left Emma's mind when his hands met the underside of her breast beneath her soaked shirt, stroking the flesh there.

She groaned in response, her mouth opening up just enough for his tongue to enter, savoring and tasting her in delight. And what started as slow and tender, soon turned into something more. Tongues met and Emma moaned, a sharp gasp escaping when the cool stainless steel of the counter met her back.

Never breaking the kiss, Killian's hands met the underside of her thighs, easily lifting her up onto the counter. She pulled him closer, his hands on her knees urging her to spread her legs wider for him (and he had absolutely no idea how wet she already was for him).

Emma bit back a groan against his lips as he stepped between her open legs, their hips meeting perfectly before she wrapped her legs around him.

"God, Emma," he murmured between kisses, his hand beneath her shirt pulling down her bra to roll her rosy nipple between his fingers (instantly hardening and coming to a peak to his touch). "You're so beautiful."

Startled, Emma pulled back, his lips chasing hers in an attempt to continue. The room was silent, the air humming, filled with nothing but the heavy breathing of the pair. Guilt immediately began to set in (she had just made out with Killian Jones – her worst enemy. She hated this man more than anything in the world. So if that was the case, why did she enjoy this too much?)

His forehead still pressed against hers, Emma loosened the grip of her arms around his neck, moving to place her palms flat across his chest and give a gentle shove. "I should go."

"You don't have to." And then Emma made the mistake of looking up, her eyes meeting his (too blue, too _much _ - filled with something that made her heart ache beneath her breastbone). He gave a small smile, reaching up to cup her cheek. "We didn't finish cooking and the place is a bloody mess."

Emma bit down on her bottom lip. Hard. She couldn't do this, the emotions all too much and everything felt like it was finally boiling over (and she couldn't handle it. _Too much_.)

"I don't want you to go."

His hushed words sent a shock throughout her still heaving body and she could already taste the cooper-like quality of the blood from her bitten lip. He was sincere, not an ounce of dishonesty in his voice (and Emma swore she could feel the room closing in on her).

Shaking her head roughly, Emma lifted herself off of the countertop, his hands still resting on her hips to help her down. Turning towards Killian one last time, she untied the apron and placed it in his hands. "Right now, I just need some time."

He gripped the fabric tightly in his hands (the pained expression on his face a dagger to her heart), and nodded slowly, grimacing as she was walked away from him once more. "As you wish."


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: The rating of this chapter has been changed to M.**

* * *

_Okay, you can do this._

Emma turned the phrase over in her head several times, even going as far as allowing the words to slip past her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, biting her bottom lip in anticipation. It was finally the day of the critics review and, more than anything, Emma was just ready to get it over with. She could literally feel the anticipation about to boil over internally - her insides nothing but a dance of crazed butterflies.

Just a few hours and he'll be out of her life for good.

(Or so she thought; she should have known that Killian was one to never give up without a fight)

The autumn wind made the water lap at the shore, small waves white capping beside the cozy restaurant. If the full parking lot was any indication, Killian's new business had made quite the impression. He was the talk of the town, and every time she heard his name uttered, Emma couldn't avoid the twinge of jealousy that ran deep through her bones.

(This should have been her.)

Wringing her hands together, Emma tried her best to calm her steadily beating heart. The ache that had settled there when she first arrived only seemed to grow the longer she sat outside the restaurant. It twisted inside, and to her surprise, her hands were actually shaking.

_Be professional. This is just a job. It's like any other restaurant._

(But it wasn't)

Clearing her throat and smoothing out the invisible wrinkles from her skirt, Emma finally gained the surge of confidence she needed to enter the restaurant. Placing her shaking hands onto the doorknob, she pulled them open, knowing there was no turning back now.

"Emma!"

She was immediately met with a warm smile, David's grin genuinely happy to see her again. He tucked the menu beneath his arm to extend a hand out towards her. "So delighted you could join us."

Giving a quick nod instead of taking his hand, David pulled his hand back towards his side, obviously embarrassed. (She honestly didn't mean to seem rude, but this was her job and it was something that she took very seriously – she couldn't risk it for friendships and funny business). "Thank you, Mr. Nolan, but its Miss Swan today."

"Right. Of course. My apologizes." His smile faltered at her words, choosing instead to walk her towards her table in the back corner. Pulling the chair out for her, David placed the menu on the table, mechanically speaking the rehearsed words with indifference. "Your server will be with you shortly. I hope you enjoy your time here at _Dockside_."

His words left a bitter taste in her mouth, stomach already churning in anxiety. She had only been in the restaurant five minutes and things were already going sour. (Just an hour or so left and she would be done. She could do this.)

(If only she knew how wrong she was.)

"Hello, Miss Swan."

Emma didn't have to look up from the menu to know whom the words belonged to. The soft lilt of his voice carried well and welcomed her warmly. They were like a long awaited embrace that she could only roughly push to the side – professional endeavor and all.

"Mr. Jones," she nodded, eyes still scanning the menu to avoid looking up at him. Her fingers gripped the edges of the menu a little tighter, swallowing hard to keep control of the situation.

In the edge of her field of vision, she could see him physically deflate – either out of sadness or relief, she didn't know for sure (and god was he handsome today, sharp blue suit only causing his cerulean eyes to pop even more than normal, dimpled grin easily smiling down at her).

"I will be taking care of you tonight, as well as being your personal chef. What will it be?" he easily questioned, leaning down into her space, tongue running obscenely across his bottom lip.

Sitting the menu down, Emma smirked back at him, folding her hands together on top of the table (his mischievous smile making her stomach do unintended flips). "Hit me with your best shot. Surprise me."

With a wicked grin, he winked down at her, adjusting the apron across his chest. "I was hoping you'd say that, love."

* * *

The side salad was average (nothing to write home about) and Emma could feel her stomach begin to rumble as she waited patiently for her meal, occasionally swiping her ink pen across her tongue before jotting down notes.

From a distance, she could feel the staff's eyes all on her. Their murmured whispers were expected. Any time she reviewed a restaurant, Emma always anticipated the best service, apt attention, never left wanting (her glass of water never getting a sip below empty).

And as expected, Killian arrived promptly, entrée in hand.

He smiled as he placed the dish down in front of her, eyes hopeful and confident. "Here we go. Filet mignon with a side of mashed potatoes."

Emma examined her plate, eyebrows rising up in concern before turning towards him. "I come to a seafood restaurant and you serve me steak?"

"We are steak _and_ seafood, lass," he joked, taking the opportunity to fill up her drink once again. "Perhaps you should read the sign more carefully next time. Enjoy!"

His voice was joyful and optimistic (the happiness he radiated ate at her from the inside out) as he left her alone with her meal. She hastily shoved the jealous thoughts aside.

This was a job. It had to remain professional. Feelings aside, she _had_ to keep control.

* * *

The meal was delicious (although she wouldn't admit it to him yet – probably the best steak she had eaten in ages). The quality of the food only seemed to increase her jealousy.

Of course the meal turned out phenomenally. _Of course_ Killian ended up being successful.

(Eat bite was delicious, but bitterness kept seeping further into her bones.)

With a long exhale, Emma pushed the empty plate to the side, scribbling more notes onto her notepad with haste.

"Well someone cleaned her plate. I guess that means you can have dessert."

And that was the final straw. Emma threw the notepad down a little too roughly onto the table, causing Killian to flinch at her sudden movements. Her voice was harsh and dripping with disdain, the anger becoming too much.

"I'm not five, Mr. Jones. And I don't like the tone you're taking with me. This is a professional endeavor and I would appreciate it if you kept your feelings about me aside for the evening."

Killian bowed his head in silence as he took the empty plate away, placing the dessert down in front of her. For once, his eyes seemed to avoid hers (and she could practically feel the pain she had caused him – it only served him right).

"As you wish, Miss Swan. I hope you will find the dessert to your liking."

He walked away quietly – almost _too_ quietly for him – and Emma's eyes followed him as he sulked. She didn't know what at the moment, but she was almost sure that he was up to something.

The whole evening had felt off and although she couldn't quite put her finger on it just yet, Emma tried her best to ignore the uneasy feeling settling once again in the pit of her stomach (at least, she hoped it was just the nerves making her stomach churn – food poisoning would _not_ look good on a restaurant review).

But a quick glance down at the dessert Killian had placed in front of her was enough to make her heart stop.

It was a slice of red velvet cake.

And then it all came flooding back to her.

Salad. Steak. Mashed potatoes. Red velvet cake.

Killian had served her the exact meal that they had last cooked together (the time of their first kiss, when the passion that had been eating at them for so long finally came to the surface).

Emma could literally feel her throat beginning to close up. She tried harder to suck in as much air as she could, her panting becoming heavy and the tears burning the corner of her eyes.

She couldn't do it. She had to get out of there.

Lips quivering, heart racing, Emma tried her best to find the nearest exit through her blurry vision. She could already hear his voice echoing to her - in her mind or was he really there beside her? She couldn't decide in the moment, until she felt his hand on her shoulder.

His fingers burned across her smooth skin and Emma jumped up, the chair crashing loudly to the floor behind her, patrons of the restaurant staring at them in concern.

"Swan?"

His whispered voice was too close (_too much – she couldn't do this_). Gasping for breath, Emma pulled away, her feet carrying her rapidly through the building – which was quite the feat considering the height of her heels.

"Emma!" Killian's voice calling after her only made the blood course faster through her veins; she knew that he probably wasn't far behind (chasing after her, just as he always did, never too far away).

He finally caught up with her when she had made it outside, the brightness of the sun temporarily blinding her. Emma placed her shaky hand across her forehead to scan the parking lot for her car when she felt his hand wrap around her forearm, tugging her back towards him.

She collided against his chest before he spun her around, pulling her quivering body closer to his. (She didn't struggle against his firm hold, reveling in the moment of the feel of him wrapped around her as she attempted to catch her breath).

Killian loosened his arms from around her to place both of them on her cheeks, gently lifting her face and wiping away the tears with his fingers. "Love, please don't run away."

His voice was full of concern (blue eyes filled to the brim with worry).

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it when nothing came out. For once, she didn't know what to say to him.

For once, Killian Jones had left her completely speechless.

Reaching up, Emma circled her hands around his wrists (where his hands were so delicately cradling her face). She squeezed her eyes shut tight – trying to block out the anxious look on his face (he couldn't care about her. _He couldn't_.)

With a quiet sob, fresh tears brimming to the surface once more, Emma shook her head, soft whispers rolling off of her tongue. "I can't do this, Killian. We can't do this again."

He took a step closer, moving one hand from her face to her golden curls. "Emma, I -"

"No." Wriggling out of his grasp, Emma backed away from him (his face fallen and confused and _hurt_). She continuously shook her head, a million thoughts were reeling through her mind, but only one was clear. The only thing she ever knew how to do: run.

"I can't."

And without that, Emma Swan was once again gone.

* * *

**Ten Years Earlier**

She honestly wasn't sure why she thought this had been a good idea.

But Ruby was her best friend, and Emma just didn't know how to say no (especially when the brunette's trademarked puppy pout sealed the deal).

The music vibrated throughout their apartment, bouncing off the walls and only causing the crowded room of drunken college students to become louder, grinding against one another without a care in the world. Emma pushed her way through the mass of people in disgust, picking up half empty cups of alcohol on her way to the kitchen.

A raging party a few weeks before finals was definitely not the best idea.

(She should have been studying instead of allowing herself to be groped by some cute frat boy, who she had quickly dismissed when he puked all over her new heels)

(She should have taken that as a sign right then to back out for the night)

"Hey!" Ruby squealed, her arms wilding waving in the air as she danced her way into the kitchen to where Emma was. "Some party, huh?"

Emma gave a frustrated sigh, tugging on the short (and rather tight) red dress that her best friend had somehow talked her into. "Ruby, it's a wonder we don't get kicked out of our own apartment. I'm surprised the neighbors haven't complained yet."

"Why would they be complaining when they're here too?" The brunette grinned as she pointed out the pair, her body never ceasing movements to the music.

Emma couldn't help the grin that came across her face as she rolled her eyes. "I've got to hand it to you. You really know how to throw a party."

Ruby gave a shout when the next song came on – somehow even louder than before – as Emma worked her way around their kitchen, cleaning up any trash that had already accumulated.

She threw away a half empty beer bottle when Ruby came in front of her, leaning on the counter, head propped up by her hands. "So have you met any cute guys yet?"

Emma paused, because she knew where this was going and she didn't know how she had missed this before. And even though she knew that Ruby was probably buzzed already, the mischievous glint in her eyes definitely wasn't from the alcohol.

"I know that look, Ruby. Did you seriously throw this party just so I could meet a guy?"

"And so you could get laid," the brunette added nonchalantly, earning her a playful punch on the arm from Emma.

"Oh come on, Emma! I'm just looking out for you. You've been so stressed lately. I just wanted you to have a night of fun before finals."

Ruby really always did have her best interests at heart. Emma knew that better than anyone; she had always been there when she needed her - she was the closest thing that Emma even had to family. But sometimes Ruby's methods were a bit…unorthodox.

(And she wouldn't admit it at the time, but Emma was a bit consumed by thoughts of too blue eyes and the way his lips had felt against hers, _so warm and just right_)

Walking around the counter, Emma finally reached her best friend, pulling her into an embrace. "Well thanks, but I think I'll pass for tonight. I'm just going to head to my room."

Ruby gave a shrug as Emma walked away, calling after her as her hips began to move again to the music. "Suit yourself. Don't say I didn't try!"

* * *

"Well hello there, gorgeous. Care to dance?"

_Really? _Emma internally groaned at the voice from behind her. She couldn't even make it halfway down the hall towards her room without getting hit on by some drunk bastard.

She turned to face him, some creep with a mop of brown locks and crooked teeth, and he was way too close in her personal space. Trying to play it cool, Emma gave him a polite smile. "No thank you."

"Aw come on babe," he slurred, reaching his hand towards her waist in an attempt to pull her closer – he stumbled closer instead. "It won't take long. Unless you ask for more, of course."

He was too close, the stench of alcohol thick on his tongue, and Emma tried her best to wriggle out of his grasp. For however brief a second, she really began to worry how she would get out of this situation.

The drunk may have been younger and unattractive but he was definitely stronger (a cause for concern, even though she knew how to throw a mean punch).

Suddenly, she felt new arms around her - soft and familiar - pulling her away from the creep and back against a firm chest.

(She didn't even have to turn around to know it was him. His mere touch sent sparks dancing across her skin)

Killian stepped around Emma to face the guy, fisting his hand into the stranger's shirt and backing him against the wall. He hit the wall with a thud, wincing slightly as Killian leaned closer, voice low and threatening. "I believe the lady said no. And it would do you best to listen to her."

The guy gave a disgruntled scoff before he attempted to leave, his hands bracing himself on the wall as he tried to steady himself.

Emma watched the guy walk off, her eyes avoiding Killian's. First their little makeout session in the kitchen and now this. He had saved her, and for that, Emma knew that she had to swallow her pride for once.

"Thanks." She winced, knowing how small and pathetic her voice had sounded.

"Don't mention it, love."

The tension in the air was thick and Emma felt like she could hardly breathe (and it wasn't from her disturbing experience only a few moments ago). Somehow, Killian left her breathless in a way that she couldn't describe.

(She didn't have feelings for Killian. _She couldn't_.)

"So what are you doing here?" she finally asked, her attempt at small talk awkward. Things had never been like this with Killian. It used to be so easy.

Fight. Argue. Hate. Repeat.

But now, something had changed – and it wasn't just from their kiss. It felt as if this something had been building between small moments, the push and pull tango that they always found themselves doing. But now they had reached the peak. There was no more room to dance around the fact.

Inevitably, somehow, they had both developed some sort of attraction for each other (which couldn't be denied because their chemistry was off the charts). Neither knew how to deal with this.

Killian pushed his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans, shuffling his feet shyly against the floor. "Ruby invited me."

"Of course she did," Emma muttered to herself, recalling the talk that she had discussed earlier with her best friend.

The longer they stood there, avoiding conversation, the more crowded the hallway became. And any chance of hearing each other vanished when the music was turned even louder, vibrating against the walls, causing Emma to wince.

Something had to be done. So, taking a leap of faith, Emma wrapped her hand around Killian's wrist, tugging him down the hall and towards her room – a poor decision that Emma would later come to regret.

After weaving their way through the crowd, Emma finally pushed Killian into her room, closing the door and switching the lock shut behind her (thankfully he didn't notice, too occupied with observing her room).

He casually paced the floor, looking at the pictures on her wall before picking up the slinky on her desk and passing it from hand to hand. "So, are you just planning on hiding out in here all night?"

Emma pushed herself off of the door, planting herself on her bed instead, fingers nervously interlocking. With a shrug, she grimaced. "That's the plan. I'm not really in the party mood."

"What a coincidence," he muttered, turning towards her finally. "Neither am I."

His voice was low and gruff (and it sent positively sinful thoughts racing through Emma's mind. She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed thickly).

"Then what are you even doing here?"

He set the slinky back down on the desk (and that's when she knew that she was done for), walking towards her before sitting down on the bed next to her, keeping a safe distance between them.

(She could just hear him – _always a gentleman, love_)

He shifted nervously beside her and, even though she was anxious as well, it was endearing to see that she had the same effect on him. "I was hoping to see you again, Swan. After what happened a few days ago, I figured we needed to talk."

Emma opened her mouth to speak, although her mind clearly didn't know what to say, her brain searching for the right words but coming up empty. "Killian, I –"

"Don't say that you didn't mean it, Emma," he hastily interrupted, scooting across the bed closer to her and grabbing her hand in his, fingers easily interlocking. "Please. I know it meant more to you than that."

For once, Emma didn't protest. She remained silent for only a moment, giving his fingers a quick squeeze before responding.

"I don't regret it."

And with those few words it was like a barrier had broken. The wall that had stood between Killian and her heart for so long – filled with hate and disgust and jealousy – had finally come tumbling down. Somehow, Killian had managed to penetrate the unbreakable wall.

Closing the last bit of distance between them, Killian pressed his forehead against hers, whispering a final question against her skin. "Given the chance, would you do it again?"

Leaning forward she placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, intentionally missing his lips as she whispered one last word against them.

"Yes."

It didn't take long for their lips to finally meet, soft and tender in a longing sort of frenzy, the passion that had been bubbling below the surface for far too long finally rising up and boiling over. He brought his hand up to knead her breast through the thin, red fabric of her dress and when she groaned at his touch, Killian gently pushed his tongue past the seam of her lips, taking the moment to thoroughly taste the woman he had been aching for.

His kiss was intoxicating and she felt lightheaded in the best possible way. Emma's hands carded through his dark locks, tugging on them a little bit too roughly to bring him impossibly closer. Never breaking their kiss, she shifted her weight, swinging her body around to straddle his lap, rolling her hips against his.

He groaned when her hips met his, fitting perfectly together like the missing piece of a puzzle. Every movement made her heart race in the best possible way, a tight fluttering beneath the surface that made warmth spread throughout – from her racing thoughts to the curling of her toes.

She should be regretting this.

But it all felt too good to stop (and it _had_ been awhile).

He didn't stop Emma when her fingers began quick work on the buttons of his shirt, finally pushing it off his shoulders and freeing his body for her hands to explore. He felt good beneath her fingertips, all hard muscles and dark chest hair. Muscles flexing to wrap around her as he pushed his hips up against hers, meeting her thrust for thrust.

(It was getting impossibly warm in her small bedroom and there were still far too many layers of clothing between them)

Killian moved his lips from hers, earning a small whimper of disappointment from Emma, before he quickly trailed open mouth kisses along her jaw and down her neck, stopping at her pulse point to suck and nip, intentionally marking her as his.

(And in some strange way, she always had been)

He froze when his hand unintentionally landed on the zipper of her dress, moving the cool metal between his fingertips. Heavy panting filled the room as they drank each other in, still lost in the feeling of one another.

"Don't stop," she urged, wriggling in his lap and earning a deep groan from Killian's throat as her already slick core thrust against his erection.

Not one to complain, Killian unhurriedly slid the zipper down, agonizingly slow (and all Emma wanted was faster and harder and more, more, _more_). She pulled away for a moment, standing up to push the straps off her shoulders teasingly and finally (_finally,_ Killian's mind screamed) allowing the dress to fall down, leaving her standing in only her dark, lacy underthings.

Killian swallowed hard, his eyes drinking in her beautiful form, blue eyes turning dark with lust at the sight of her almost naked body.

"Come here," he beckoned, voice dark and husky, sliding his fingers along her bare hips to pull her back into his lap.

His mouth was back on hers in seconds, devouring and tasting, savoring every moment that Emma had given her heart over to him. (He was honestly surprised that she didn't take control, given their constant competition. However, Killian quickly learned that in the bedroom, Emma Swan wanted to be taken, to be ravished and loved and pleasured)

Expertly reaching behind her with one hand, he flicked the clasp of her bra open, which she quickly rid herself of. Killian didn't waste a moment, bringing his lips down to nip and suck at the newly exposed skin, taking a hardened nipple into his mouth (he was growing harder at the erotic sounds of her moans; it gave him delight to know that he had this effect on her, that he had caused this).

Somehow, Emma reached down to the button of his jeans, opening the denim and sitting up straighter, allowing him to push down the pants and his boxers with it, leaving him completely nude beneath her.

Killian groaned when her hand made contact with his cock, as she wrapped her fingers around him and squeezed up and down the length of his shaft. Knowing that if she kept it up much longer, he wouldn't be able to last, Killian flipped them over, pushing her into the mattress as he carefully hovered over her.

She gave a sequel of surprise at his dominance, thankful that the raging music outside would keep people from hearing what they were up to.

"Swan, are you sure about this?" His voice was warm against her breast, where he continued to suck, twirling the rosy bud with his tongue.

"Yes," she panted, never letting go of his length and moving his hips against hers (underwear still covering her bottom half). "Just get inside me. Now."

He chuckled, using a finger to push her underwear to the side, the tip of him rubbing against her soaking wet core. "As the lady wishes."

Slowly, Killian pushed into her, inch by inch. She gasped at the feeling of him inside of her, her fist grabbing the sheets below as her hips bucked up off the mattress and into him. When he was finally buried in her to the hilt, they breathed a mutual sigh of relief and satisfaction.

(All those years of building sexual tension was finally paying off)

"Move," Emma growled, pushing her hips up into his and wrapping her legs around his waist, a silent urge to go faster, to move, to completely take her.

One word was all it took for Killian to pull out and slam back into her; she met him thrust for thrust as he pushed down into her. Emma keened with he hit that spot inside, back arching off of the bed (her quiet whisper delicately asking for _more, god more_).

He brought one hand up to knead her breast, flicking against the nipple while his other hand found hers, lacing their fingers together in an intimate way that probably would have scared Emma away, if it were not for the way he was continuously slamming into her.

"I'm close."

Killian took that as a urge to help her finish - to guide her towards that release - moving the hand that was on her breast, trailing it down to where they were connected, his finger expertly moving against her aching clit.

He circled it once, twice before she fell, her orgasm overcoming her unexpectedly, wave upon wave of burning pleasure coursing through her sweaty body. And all it took was her falling for him to come too, a muffled scream escaping his lips as he emptied himself into her. The throws of pleasure overtaking him, he fell down onto her, his still shaking body collapsing against hers.

Neither spoke a word. Neither wanted to.

(There was always tomorrow)

Pulling out of her, Killian gave her a final soft kiss to her lips, sleep already trying to overtake them both. She snuggled herself into his side, allowing her head to rest against his slick chest. And when his arm came around her waist, pulling her even closer against him, she smiled.

Tomorrow she would regret it, but for tonight, Emma was going to be content in his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

_*****NOTE: There is very sensitive material in this chapter. If you would like to know the trigger warning before you read it, scroll to the bottom of this chapter (in final note) or visit the story on my tumblr (link in my profile).**_

* * *

The next few days seemed like nothing but a blur for Emma – merely a collaboration of unshed tears, haunting memories, and dozens of half-baked cupcakes. How could her life be turned so upside down in just a matter of weeks? Everyone who knew Emma would say that she was always strong and tough, but lately she was anything but.

It may seem out of character for her, to be currently sitting in her kitchen, crying over a botched batch of cupcakes (not just because of the cupcakes, although that only seemed to intensify her battle versus the inner demons), but if everything that she had endured over the past ten years was put into perspective, it would make even the strongest of people weak. And now to have all of those subconscious memories that she had tried so hard to overcome for a decade suddenly pushed back into the limelight, it was as if a huge weight was bearing down on her soul, heart heavy, and there was no way to lift burden.

But there was a way – a way to solve all of the heartache and troubles she was currently experiencing. And as much as she tried to ignore it, Emma knew that eventually it would all boil down to that one solution.

Tell Killian the truth.

Every time the notion slipped its way into the depths of her mind, Emma tried her best to shove the impending thought away. Lately though, the more she saw Killian and the more her past was brought into light, the thought wouldn't rid itself, planting itself in her mind and festering like an old wound. She just couldn't shake the thought of it – a million "what ifs" racing through her mind.

How would he react? Would he be angry for her being so secretive about something he should have been told? Would it be a burden for him too, tearing him apart from the inside out? What if he didn't even care at all, shaking it all off as if her past was of no importance or value?

The more she thought about every possible scenario, the further back she tried to push the thought in her mind. It hurt too much to keep to herself, but the crippling fear held her back, afraid of the unknown and the hurt he may cause.

The buzzing of her cell phone pulled Emma out of her thoughts as she wiped her flour-covered hands off on her apron, reaching for the vibrating phone perched on the kitchen island.

It was him again.

Emma groaned before hitting the ignore button (she regretted the day she called and scheduled the review on her cell phone, giving him easy access to call her whenever he wished). But Killian was one to never give up.

Since the day of the review he had attempted to call her at least ten times, Emma promptly hitting ignore on every occasion. At first it was endearing to see that he cared, sweet voice message of his concern were left for her to hear (and she most certainly did _not_ listen to them over and over again, his lilted voice soothing her worries temporarily). But then it started to get old, his incessant calling and concern for her – it should still be sweet, his persistence, but whenever his name popped up on her screen, it only made her feel more guilty for shutting him out.

She knew he deserved the truth (she just wasn't ready to give it to him yet).

The echoing of the apartment door slamming shut pulled Emma back to reality, and the scuffling of the feet along the floor gave her no doubt that it was Ruby.

"Ugh, again?"

"Well hello to you too," Emma grumbled miserably, lifting her head up as Ruby came to a stop in front of the kitchen counter, concern etched across her face.

The brunette gave a sigh, arms folded tightly across her chest. She grimaced, eyes scanning her best friend's disheveled form. "Emma –"

"Don't, Ruby," she interrupted, picking up the bowl of batter that had been sitting there for over an hour and beginning to stir it again, hoping it would mask her distress. "Please. I just can't deal with it right now."

"Then when, Emma?" Her voice was loud, arms flying up in the air before continuing her rant. "You know that this is only going to continue to get worse and right now, quite frankly, your moping is out of control. You don't sleep, you hardly eat and your baking is only sub-par at the moment."

"Aren't I allowed to be upset?" Emma raised her voice to match Ruby's, her face turning red and heart rate increasing, slamming the bowl down onto the counter with a crash. "You of all people should understand. You _know_ what I went through."

"Yes, and it was ten years ago."

Emma honestly couldn't believe she had just said that (and from the look of surprise on her face, neither could Ruby). A mere slip of the tongue was enough to send Emma's blood boiling.

Ruby took in a quick breath, cautiously moving near Emma and lowering her voice, hands outstretched towards the blonde. "Look, I know that it's hard to let go of the past. But Emma, you know what you have to do. And I think that you've put it off for long enough. It's time to take action."

She didn't respond, jaw set tight and, as much as she willed them to stop, the familiar tears began to prick her emerald eyes once again; the knot in her throat only seemingly increasing in size.

She had to get out of there. She couldn't do this.

She just needed to be alone.

Grabbing her phone and shoving it into her purse, Emma slung the bag over her shoulder, ignoring Ruby's gaze and consistent protests.

("_Emma, I should apologize for saying that but I can't. I mean it. I'm worried about you_" and "_Please don't leave_.")

Every word only seemed to push Emma further back into herself. She knew that this wasn't normal behavior – avoiding life and her friends (who were only concerned for her wellbeing) – but it was a better option than the alternative.

So Emma did what she always did – pulled herself back into her shell, walls rising high (so high that no one, not even the insufferable Killian Jones, could penetrate them).

"Where are you going?" She heard Ruby's timid voice behind her, a cautious hand on her shoulder, urging her to stay.

Emma flinched at her touch, pulling away from her friend to wrap her fingers around the strap of her purse, knuckles turning white from the pressure building up inside (_too much, she couldn't do this_). "If you won't let me bake here, I'll find somewhere else."

"Emma – "

When Ruby's mouth opened to speak, Emma turned on her heels, only answering the brunette with the slamming of the door behind her.

* * *

This was a stupid idea.

She honestly didn't know why she had unintentionally driven herself to Killian's restaurant (okay, so maybe she did), but it wasn't to see him. It horrified her when she realized where she had driven herself to – even subconsciously Emma knew what needed to be done. The deep, dark secret hidden within the caverns of her mind was just begging to be released, to be shared, _to help her finally heal_.

The festering memory only brought heartache every time she thought of it.

So, jumping out of her car and heading for the back door of the restaurant, she shoved the thought aside once more, placing it away at an unfathomable distance and locking it tightly away. Jingling the doorknob in her hands, Emma was pleased to find it unlocked (which was a surprise considering that it was not even open for business at the moment).

The coolness of the stainless steel counters, her fingertips running along the smooth surface, sent a calming agent throughout her nerves, settling pleasurably in her stomach and easing her heart. There was just something about the kitchen (the food, the unpredictability, the competition) that sent a spark of joy bursting inside, like a teenager with a newfound crush.

"Swan?"

But the soft lilt of his voice (the accent soothing and the concern laced in his tone) quickly dissipated her once seemingly joyous moment.

"What are you doing here, love?"

She kept her back to him, her grip on the countertop growing tighter, knuckles turning white from the pressure (suddenly building up inside until she knew that it would be too much, _too much to handle_)

"Emma, please talk to me."

_God, did he ever stop?_ Killian was never one to give up without a fight – questions and concern and genuine care for her overwhelming. Emma swallowed thickly, the lump in her throat suffocating her, the knot beneath her breastbone tightening intensely and before she knew it, words were rolling gently off of her tongue (too late to shove them all back in where they rightly belonged).

"Ruby kicked me out, or at least she tried to get me to stop baking. Coming here was a last resort."

Nodding his head, Killian finally made his way towards her, leaning his back against the counter that was currently being assaulted from her grip of death. "Ah. So are you ready to finally tell me what's bothering you?"

He was too close. Blinking her eyes rapidly (she would _not_ cry in front of him, she couldn't let him see how this was affecting her) Emma pushed off of the counter and walked towards the island, her hand running over the expensive, shiny mixer.

"I'm only trying to help, lass."

Emma scoffed, her gaze avoiding his. "Yeah well you should have said that ten years ago."

"How can I if you won't tell me what's hurting you? Was it something I said? Did I do something to harm you, Emma?"

He paused, coming to stand behind her back, voice dropping to a questioning whisper.

"Was it the night we slept together?"

Emma winced, unresponsive to his question. She could hear his sharp intake of breath behind her (he knew that he had finally hit the nail on the head, almost the correct answer for her troubles).

"Ah. So was it really that horrible? Did you regret the sex so much that you choose to flunk out of school and avoid me for ten years? Because, love, I think of that moment every day. The night that I finally won your heart only for you to eventually shut me out completely."

Each word felt like a punch to the gut and Emma couldn't help the tears that were now making their way down her reddened face (almost as if it were a race between the teardrops, until they started coming down faster).

She finally felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder before he turned her around to face him. Emma dropped her head, trying her best to not make eye contact as he spoke hesitantly (with a tad bit more force than normal). "What aren't you telling me, Swan? If this concerns me too, I deserve to know."

His concern, his closeness, his breath warm across her face was suddenly the exploding point.

Too much, too much.

_Too much._

"I was pregnant, okay?!"

The shock written across his face was enough to let Emma know that she had actually spoken the words out loud. She couldn't believe that, after years of holding the secret in, the truth was finally out in the open.

Killian and Ruby were right; he deserved to know (especially since he already knew half of the truth).

His blue eyes were wide, jaw dropped as he tried to form coherent words. The grip on her shoulder loosened, slipping down before pulling the arm back to his side. "What? And I –"

"It was only you, Killian," she interrupted without hesitance, taking one step closer towards him (which was a rare first in their relationship). "You were the father."

He shook his head, lost in his racing thoughts (and Emma could feel the pressure building up inside, the other half of her secret ready to join the first – out in the open where it belonged – _he deserved to know_). "Were? I don't understand. Where is the child now?"

When she didn't immediately answer his question, the tears freely flowing down her trembling cheeks now, Emma knew that Killian recognized that something was wrong.

"Emma, darling. What happened?" His hands were warm on her cheeks, comforting, pressing his forehead firmly to hers, the sobbing unceasing. She wrapped her shaky hands around his wrists (his pulse erratic against her thumb), sniffling and trying her best to regain control of the situation. "Please talk to me, love."

"I lost it," she quietly cried, pulling slightly away from him to finally – _finally_ – look him in the eyes with the truth.

"I lost our baby, Killian."

* * *

**Ten Years Earlier**

She couldn't believe it.

Even though this was the third test she had taken, Emma knew that there was almost a zero percent chance of _all_ of them being wrong. The plastic stick held loosely in her shaky hands, the bright pink plus sign etched forever into her memory, Emma was slowly beginning to accept the realization.

She was pregnant.

And worse? Killian Jones was the father.

It had been four weeks since they slept together, her period way overdue. The morning sickness had taken an early start and (with it being unprotected sex from the start) Emma just _knew_.

And if she thought that the worst part was finding out the news, Emma quickly realized how wrong she had been.

Telling him the news was almost going to be almost impossible.

Since their shared night together almost a month ago, they hadn't exactly talked about what had transpired between them. Their level of competitiveness had simmered down, molding into nothing more than shy glances, a mere touch of spark, and the occasional stolen kisses (mostly started by Killian).

She knew what he wanted (the relationship that she had been so afraid of for far too long), but he never pushed her, always letting her be the one in control, never giving her more than she could take.

But now all of that was going to change. Their _relationship_ (in whatever state it was in) was going to change.

Emma wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes, throwing the pregnancy test in the trash before slipping into her bed (the same bed they had shared and – she didn't know if it was her hormones – but she could almost still smell him on her sheets). She snuggled closer, inhaling the scent, her stomach a bundle of knots.

Tomorrow she and Killian were supposed to meet in the school kitchen to finish up their final project – and Emma knew that, no matter how hard it was going to be, Killian deserved to know.

* * *

Telling Ruby had been tough, but Emma knew that it was going to be even more difficult to tell him.

(The brunette was confused at first, a state of shock. Then nothing more than an emotional support, encouraging her best friend that they'd get through this – and encouraging her even more to tell Killian. She was warm arms and hopeful smiles, something that Emma had very much needed at the moment)

Her afternoon with Killian at the school kitchen had gone effortlessly, preparing their final meal with ease. They were a perfect team – working alongside each other as fluidly and smoothly as the waves lapping at the shore – flawless synchronization.

He joked with her (teasing and flirting and it was all so _nice_ – yet too much considering the information she held within). Every now and then he would see her smile falter, words of concern immediate until she brushed it off.

All of these events finally accumulating to this moment – here at her doorstep.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Killian had offered to walk her back to her apartment, and Emma – knowing what needed to be done – had reluctantly agreed. It was the awkward kind of first date tension, standing outside her door like young teenagers unsure of what to do. She fiddled with the key between her fingers, uncomfortably shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Swan-"

"Would you like to come inside?" she hurriedly interrupted, her words nothing but a jumble, blushing when he raised an eyebrow at her (curious of her intentions most likely).

He gave a chuckle (dark and suggestive), giving his feet a scuffle to step closer to her, fingers playing errantly with the tips of her blonde hair. "Well, love, you know that I am never one to deny a lady."

Emma tried to force a smile (she really did), the tips of her mouth coming up slightly in his presence. "I mean to talk."

Eyes understanding and inquisitive, Killian nodded, stepping to the side to allow her to open the door for them, ushering him inside. It was obvious, by Emma's nervous nature, that Ruby was not home at the moment, leaving the pair truly alone since their previous night spent there together.

Curiously, Emma watched Killian observing her place (knowing full well that it looked completely different when it wasn't trashed by a mass of drunken college students).

He scanned the pictures on the wall (mostly of her and Ruby), grinning at one of Emma in her younger years – a few years before she met Killian in high school - glasses on crooked and a ponytail piled atop her head.

"That was before we met," she explained, slow grin spreading across her face. "You can tell because I actually look happy."

His lips turned up into a goofy grin at her teasing tone, giving a laugh before running his tongue along his bottom lip. "Ah joke all you want. I know you enjoyed the competition."

He was right – she did (always had). It fueled her, made her a better person. She wouldn't admit it to him, but it had shaped her into the person she was today.

Killian moved on from the pictures, moving across the living room area to the large window, pulling back the curtains and gasping in awe.

"Bloody hell. This is an incredible view you have here, Swan."

Emma plopped down on the couch, her stomach flipping at the sight of the rays of sun hitting his face (blue eyes only seeming to pop even more than normal) and shrugged her shoulders. "I've always loved the water. It relaxes me I guess."

"One day I hope to have a restaurant by the water. Doesn't matter what city I suppose, so long as it's near a shore. It's always been my dream ever since I was a young lad."

Giving one last look out the window, Killian moved towards her, settling himself on the couch next to her and pulling her feet into his lap. Emma tried her hardest to concentrate on his words but the small circles his thumb was rubbing on her ankle were making it very difficult at the moment.

"My older brother, Liam, he bought me a cooking set when I was eight as a prank. But much to his surprise, I fell in love with it."

While he spoke, Emma watched the way his face lit up, as if cooking were the thing he loved more than any other thing in this world. He spoke with passion and enthusiasm (and it only made her heart skip several more beats).

She didn't know how she had denied herself this for so long. Granted, the flirting and innuendoes were nice (at the time she _did_ dislike him), but she couldn't kid herself any longer.

Emma was falling for Killian Jones.

She sighed happily, leaning into him and relishing his touch before whispering her own tale. "Cooking has always been an escape for me. Whenever I felt lonely or frustrated, I would bake. Still do actually. I don't even remember when it first got into my blood. All I know is that I've never been able to stop."

Killian hummed in response, shifting closer to find her hand and linking it with his – fingers tight, a perfect fit. "And I suppose you want to own a bakery someday?"

"It would be nice," she commented quietly, suddenly remembering the reason she had asked him here in the first place. Seeing him here at her home, like this with her, the domesticity was overwhelming, Emma almost felt as if this could work. Maybe he could actually be happy with her (god, with _them_).

But seeing him talk about his plans, his dreams and goals, only seemed to deflate her hopefulness. She grimaced, giving his hand a squeeze before continuing. "But plans change, and sometimes more important things come along."

His fingers moved from their place at her ankles and ran along her smooth leg (long and exposed from the denim shorts she was wearing), stopping at her knee to give it an encouraging squeeze. "You have plenty of time to worry about other things. Right now you should be focusing on your dream. It's what makes you special."

He sounded so hopeful and optimistic, and right now Emma hated more than anything that she was going to crush his dreams – throwing new responsibilities on him that should have been prevented.

Swallowing the knot in her throat (her stomach doing summersaults – and she wasn't sure if it was from the nerves or the baby growing inside), Emma squeezed her eyes shut, whispering his name quietly, "Killian."

"Shhh," he soothed, hand meeting her warm skin to cup her cheek, leaning forward to finally press his lips to hers.

She was hesitant at first, unsure of the situation (it wasn't like she didn't want to kiss him because the man could definitely kiss), before finally letting her walls down for however brief a moment, relishing in the sensation of him against her – all hard lines and muscles meeting soft curves – his lips tender and inviting.

Tilting her head to the side, she allowed his tongue to explore her mouth, gently lowering herself until she was spread out on the couch on her back, mouths never leaving each other. Moving himself on top of her, Killian's knee came to rest between her thighs, pressing up into her core and only building the pressure that was already accumulating there. She moaned at the contact, sparks of pleasure zipping throughout her body (she was on fire from head to toe, lost in the feeling that was him).

His hand skimmed her waist, finally lifting up the hem of her shirt slightly to allow his hand underneath. She stiffened when his hand laid flat across her stomach – the realization hitting her like a freight train.

(They shouldn't be doing this, making out on her couch like a bunch of horny kids. He should at least know the truth first.)

Emma pulled back, detaching their lips as his fingers danced across her stomach, breathing labored and eyes wide. She was scared, terrified even, trembling in his arms, bottom lip beginning to quiver in fear.

Confused, Killian pushed a few stray locks of blonde hair off of her damp forehead, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth in the process. "Relax, Emma. I've got you," a whisper of promise against her flushed skin.

"Killian," she began with caution, hands flat against his chest to keep the distance between them (he was far too close for her to do this). "There's something I need to tell you."

He raised an eyebrow at her, remaining silent and urging her to continue.

In all her years she had never imagined that she would be in this position, trying to tell her love-hate sort of boyfriend that she was expecting his child. But nonetheless, here she was, stuttering and sputtering like an idiot when all she wanted to do was curl into a ball, watch Netflix and eat some chicken and waffles – the odd cravings already starting early – not ruin someone else's life.

But this wasn't _just_ someone else. This was Killian. She had already shared so much of her life with him, mostly hate but lately blossoming into something more. It pained her to know that she would be putting this on him (something that she later realized was just an excuse her young, naïve mind was trying to convince her of).

Taking one last breath, she opened her mouth to speak, the words balancing on the tip of her tongue – before she was interrupted by the buzzing of Killian's phone.

_Of course._

Killian pulled the phone out of his pocket, untangling his limbs from her before excusing himself to answer, "One moment, love." With an exasperated sigh, Emma sat up (slowly – so that the nausea wouldn't take form again), her head held in her hands, rubbing at her eyes until spots began to form behind them.

Eventually, she watched him pace across her floor, hand running through his disheveled hair as he talked on the phone and for one small moment, she actually wanted it (him and her and _them_ – all three of them together. She imagined him moving in, a crib set up nearby, Christmas and birthdays together, and late night snuggles after putting the baby to bed, a promise of forever). But with it now gone, Emma knew that it was going to be even harder to build herself up to that moment again.

He hung up, sitting down beside her again and pulling her from her dangerous thoughts (thoughts of what could be never turned out well). "Seems David requests my presence at the moment. Something about a small fire in our building. Nothing too major thankfully." He smiled at her – too happy and too perfect to ruin for the moment. "You were saying?"

Frowning, Emma shrugged her shoulders, trying her best to not sound disappointed. "Um, it sounds like David needs you. We'll talk later. It can wait."

(But it couldn't)

He grinned; it was boyish and young – too youthful to have a kid on the way, before leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to her lips. "I'll see you soon."

And then he was gone.

She should have known that this wouldn't have gone exactly as planned – nothing in her life ever did.

She knew that she should have found a way to tell him that afternoon.

Tomorrow, she promised herself. She'd tell him tomorrow.

* * *

It happened during the middle of the night – her memories now blocking out the horrific incident as best as possible.

All she remembers is blood (blood everywhere – starting below and soaking onto the sheets of her bed, eyes wide glancing down at the substance coating her hands and body), the indescribable and excruciating pain (low in her abdomen and working its way into the emotional confines of her heart at the realization), the screaming (loud and deafening – which she didn't realize was coming from her own body - her throat raw, the pain all consuming) and Ruby's arms tight around her, rocking her gently back and forth.

And then – darkness.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone for being so patient with me. It's hard finding time to write during these crazy college days (especially with finals ****coming up). I don't know when the next chapter will be up so just have patience with me. You guys rock! Reviews are always appreciated.**

*****Note: trigger warning - pregnancy and miscarriage**


	7. Chapter 7

******The rating of this chapter has been changed to M.**

* * *

**Ten Years Earlier**

She felt numb.

Completely and horrifyingly numb.

Her body, her mind, her heart – all without sensation.

The pain had been more than she could handle at first, spreading throughout her entire body during the middle of the night, so consuming that it had overtaken her completely, even so much as causing her to pass out from the ache (both within her body _and_ her heart).

Ruby had taken care of her, supporting Emma in the moment of the miscarriage and every moment after. Emma's screams had awakened the brunette during the middle of the night and her best friend had not pulled away since.

The days following the incident were nothing but a blur for Emma.

She felt hollow, empty, alone. Her hand that rested on her stomach never moved, stroking the skin there and the empty womb beneath.

During that first week, she went through cycles of mourning – starting emotionless (just sitting next to the large window in their living room, staring out at the calm water, the blue waves lapping gently at the shore almost seeming to hypnotize her as she hoped to forget her troubles). Then the ache came, gently subsiding before coming in waves (just like the ones in front of her), sobs consuming her entire body until she couldn't cry anymore.

Lying curled up in her bed, pillow clutched to her chest and knees tight up against her body, Emma finally felt as if she couldn't cry anymore. It seemed as if the red rim around her emerald eyes had become permanent, her throat still raw from the days of grief.

"Emma?"

She didn't move when Ruby stuck her head inside Emma's doorway with a quiet knock. No change of expression even showed that Emma acknowledged her presence; face fixed instead on a little pair of yellow socks held in her hand that she had bought after her initial visit to the doctor, the other hand pressed firmly against her flat belly.

The fabric of the socks was soft and warm against her fingertips, too bright and joyful for her current mood. She had purchased the tiny pair on a whim, hoping that they might bring happiness to her unpleasant mood of the news and hoping that they would somehow help her break the news to Killian.

She had been keeping them safely inside her nightstand, just a room over from where they had made out on the couch, where she almost told him.

When she _should_ have told him.

"Killian came by again. I told him you were sick."

Ruby's voice broke and, even though Emma couldn't see her best friend, she knew that she had been crying as well. In the three days since the miscarriage, their apartment had remained silent (except for the occasion cycle of Emma's cries, the wailing echoing against the wall as she desperately clutched the pillow to her empty stomach), the hum of grief thick in the air.

"Emma, you know that you're going to have to talk to him eventually."

Emma swallowed, a subtle movement to confirm that she had heard the words. She hadn't left the house in three days and she'd be lying if she said that she hadn't thought about him.

She had. Too much honestly.

She couldn't get him and her _and_ _them_, out of her head (the them that would never be now).

Gripping the socks tightly between her fingers, Emma rolled over onto her side and pulled the thick wool blanket up over her shaking body, new tears already attempting desperately to be produced only to slip down her cheeks once again.

Emma opened her mouth to try to speak, only a shaky breath and broken sob escaping. She quickly closed her mouth, biting down harshly on her bottom lip instead.

"Okay, well, I just wanted to wish you good luck on your final exam this afternoon. And to see how you were doing," the brunette commented in a whisper, her body awkwardly standing in Emma's doorframe, grimace upon her face. "Do you need anything before I go?"

Somehow Emma managed to shake her head no, the shock of forgetting about her exam dull. It was almost as if nothing else mattered to Emma anymore.

And the truth was, that it didn't.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was a compete daze.

She didn't remember how she had gotten there but somehow Emma had ended up in her classroom, a zombie-like state overtaking her. She felt his gaze as he took the seat next to her, but she didn't turn or glance his way. Her heart sped up (for a while she was beginning to wonder if her heart was still working, the deadened feeling not giving her any indication if she could actually feel something).

Killian's eyes were fixed on her and she was certain that he had become concerned. His voice was soft and worried, nearly breaking in its tone. "Swan, are you alright?"

Not looking his way, she didn't respond, instead choosing to think of anything but him and what had happened within the last few days (but that was seemingly impossible – the thoughts were consuming her soul, overtaking and slowly squeezing the life out of her).

"Emma, you look bloody awful. What's wrong?"

She felt him scoot his chair closer, his hand landing on her knee and giving it a soft squeeze. "Did I do something?"

Her mouth quivered, bottom lip trembling (she wouldn't cry here, she _couldn't_ cry here), but before she could respond, the professor entered the classroom, clapping her hands and calling the class to attention.

"Alright, class, quiet please. Here is your final exam." Miss Mills took the time to explain the rules and guidelines, passing out the exams as she spoke. When she had finished, she sat down at the desk in the front, observing the apple in her hand. "Good luck and you are free to leave the class as soon as you are finished. Thanks for a great semester!"

Ripping the test open, Emma glanced down at the questions, trying her best to read them through her tears. One slipped down her cheeks and landed on the paper, the wet stain smudging the ink. She attempted to wipe the tears away before anyone could notice (but she knew that he had, his hand still soothing on her knee).

She jerked at his touch. Feeling his touch sent pain straight to her heart. Emma knew that she would never be the same around him – not when he was now connected to too much hurt.

She couldn't do it.

Too much.

Her hand quickly flew across the test, filling in the bubbles without even reading the questions. She knew that it was probably a mistake, but at the moment she couldn't think about her future (or about anything other than her current situation).

Finally pushing Killian's hand off of her knee, Emma jumped up, pushing the paper onto Miss Mills' desk (who gave her a questioning look for finishing the test in only five minutes), and slammed the door behind her, hoping to leave her problems (and unfortunately her future) on the other side.

* * *

She had failed.

She honestly shouldn't have been surprised, considering that she had marked every answer as A and had skipped the written portion completely. At the moment, she hadn't considered the repercussions of her actions.

Now, the only reasonable, realistic solution was to quit school, to let go of the future she had once hoped for. Anger and grief was building up within and Emma knew that it would never be relieved unless she got far, far away from the place (and person) that had caused it.

And within the span of a week, Emma Swan realized that her life had been ruined.

* * *

**Present Day**

"What?"

Killian's voice was soft, confusion and anguish written all over his face. He took a shaky step backwards, fingers moving from her face to grip the counter next to him.

Emma watched his knuckles turning white before she spoke once again. "I lost –"

"I know what you said," he interrupted, releasing his grasp on the counter to run his fingers through his dark hair, moving aside to pace the floor of the kitchen. "What I want to know is why you didn't tell me?"

"Because I knew how you would have reacted!" She honestly didn't mean to yell, but her voice seemed to raise unintentionally, blood starting to boil as the tears subsided, making way for the anger. Clenching her fists at her side, the feelings were becoming overwhelming. It felt as if the walls of the kitchen were closing in on the pair, suffocating the life right out of her.

Killian stopped pacing at her words, face softening but seeming to turn even paler in the process (Emma's stomach flipped at the sight, her body giving away her true feelings without permission). "You honestly must not know a thing about me, Emma. To make such a _hasty_ assumption-"

This is what she had feared all these years. And Emma couldn't bear to hear it any more. Grabbing her purse and keys, she cut him off, walking quickly to the door, the key to her bug digging into the skin of her palm and pressing an indentation.

"Where are you going?"

She couldn't help but stop at his voice, the hurt evident in his tone (one of the many reasons why she had avoided telling him – he had gotten everything she ever wanted; she didn't want to burden him with the horrible news, to drag him down with her). Taking a hesitant breath, Emma squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, voice breaking in sadness. "I can't do this. I just can't. This is why I kept the secret for as long as I did."

"Emma, listen to me." Killian's breath was warm on her neck and she deflated a bit when his hand landed on her shoulder (what should have been warm and comforting was only seeming to tear her apart even more on the inside). "We need to talk about this."

Finally exhaling, Emma unclenched her fist and turned around to face him. She wasn't expecting to see the tear running down his cheek and the shock of it only seemed to settle deep in the pit of her stomach (knowing that she had brought on this pain, that it was all her fault). Reaching up to cup his face, wiping away the tear with the pad of her thumb, she forced a small smile across her lips before bringing the hand back down to her side. "Goodbye, Killian."

Not giving him any chance to protest, Emma did what she thought was best, what she _always_ did - turned on her heels and left, leaving Killian behind with nothing but his tears and heartache.

* * *

Here she was again – holed up in her room just like she was ten years ago.

She had never anticipated it going like this. In fact, she had never intended to see Killian Jones again, much less finally tell him what had really happened. Emma knew that she should feel relief, but the grip that the secret had on her heart still didn't want to let go.

And, unfortunately, she knew why.

Yes, she had told Killian. There wasn't anything left to tell him.

But she needed the talk. She needed to hear him, to listen to his thoughts on it once and for all. It wasn't until that moment that she knew the constrictions her heart was feeling would finally subside.

Her phone buzzed from its place on the nightstand once again (and she didn't have to look to know that it was Killian trying to reach out to her once more – he had called five times on her way home).

_Emma, please answer your phone. We need to talk, love._

She had hit ignore on every single call, so it was only natural that he resorted to texting her. Rolling her eyes at his message, Emma scoffed, her thumb hovering over the keyboard before forcing it back onto the nightstand with a huff.

She couldn't do it.

The phone buzzed continuously, indicating another message (and she knew that he wouldn't stop until she finally answered him).

_Okay, I know that you're ignoring me. But can we please talk? There are some things that we need to work through._

Before she had even finished reading his message, another came in, and her eyes scanned the words with almost…hope.

_And if you don't like what I have to say…then you don't ever have to see me again. Promise._

Emma thought it out, weighing the pros and cons of seeing him again. And knowing that her heart would never heal without seeing him once more, she typed out the message and hit send before her heart would regret it.

_Tonight. 9PM. Dockside kitchen._

Emma knew what she had to do, no matter how much she disliked it.

* * *

"Swan. You came."

She watched Killian jump up from his spot on the stool next to the kitchen counter, his eyes wide in surprise at the sight of her. It was almost as if he had been patiently waiting there for her for hours.

(And knowing Killian, he probably had been)

She wanted to scoff and roll her eyes at his distrust in here (or perhaps it was disbelief), but instead she held her breath, her voice still harsher than intended, "Did you think I lied?"

"I was hesitant, seeing as I don't even know why you're mad at me for something that I didn't have any knowledge of."

Killian shuffled his feet awkwardly and, standing in front of him, Emma could feel the awkwardness in the room eating them, surrounding and completely consuming them – one question hanging in the air that Emma could see was literally on the tip of his tongue.

This conversation was about him. So Emma held her breath and waiting, knowing full well that he'd make his thoughts known when he was ready.

"Why didn't I know about it, Emma? Please be honest."

Finally meeting his eyes, she was met with nothing but sorrow and confusion – and her intentions of not hurting him had come full circle. It didn't matter now which way the situation had been turned. Because he was here and he now knew, Killian still ended up getting hurt.

She exhaled shakily and Killian took a step forward, hand on her shoulder comfortingly to encourage her. And when she started speaking, it was as if she couldn't stop. "I was going to tell you, I promise. As soon as I found out that I was pregnant, I had planned to tell you. But then I had the miscarriage only a few days after and I just couldn't handle it."

When she paused, it was as if she could literally see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to understand the situation. Finally, after a few quiet moments, he nodded, adding with a whisper, "That's why you failed the exam and quit school?"

Now it was Emma's turn to nod. Inside she felt nothing but turmoil, but she knew that she had to keep it together (for him, she couldn't cry in front of him again). "I hated the whole situation. I hated myself for losing the baby, quitting school, and subsequently ruining my future. And I hated you for making me love you. I just couldn't bear to bring you down with me, Killian."

"Swan," he addressed her, grabbing both of her smaller hands in his (and hardly even registering that she had said the "L" word first). "I would have gladly let you drag me down if it meant helping you through the pain. You have no idea how absolutely and completely in love with you I was."

She heard him take a breath before reaching up to cup her cheek, his thumb running along her smooth skin as he spoke. "How in love with you I am right now."

Emma felt all of the air whoosh right out of her. She was speechless. Here she was, coming into this kitchen with every intention of breaking off things for good with Killian Jones and yet he says words like that.

"You love me?" She winced at how small her voice sounded, breaking up only momentarily (and hoping he didn't notice the effect his words had on her).

Killian shook his head in astonishment (because at this point she really should have known). "Aye. Emma, you mean more to me than this entire world. I wish you would realize that."

"I do," she spoke softly, leaning into his touch. "I'm sorry for not telling you. It's something that I've struggled with for ten long years. But now that it's out in the open, I feel…free."

Sighing, Killian took a step closer, removing his hand from her cheek to wrap both arms around her waist. She gave a sharp intake of breath when his forehead met hers (it had been so long since Killian had held her like this and it just felt…right. Like home. Like she belonged there, in his arms, forever).

"I wish you would have told me, love. I could have been there to help you through it all. I would have been there to support you every step of the way."

His words melted her heart and, even though she originally wouldn't have believed him, she now did. His voice and eyes were full of honesty (and Emma almost wishes now that she would have told him back then. That maybe he could have made it all better for her; letting them share the pain together). "I know that now, you have to believe that I do, but I guess it's a little too late."

She gave a slight shrug before looking down, and his silence at her words sent a sickening feeling to the pit of her stomach, the churning inside seeming to never end. Taking a leap, she finally looked up to meet his eyes. It wasn't what she expected and it was a look that she couldn't exactly explain. But it felt as if he was burning a whole through her head with his gaze.

His face was serious (where he normally would have given a soft chuckle). Killian unclenched his jaw, shaking his head with a whisper, "It's never too late."

And before she knew it, his lips were on hers.

It was exactly like she remembered, soft yet full of passion (and in all the kisses she had experienced in the ten years since him, none compared to this). His mouth moving against hers, made her weak at the knees and she swore that if his grip had not been around her waist, she would have fallen to the floor right there.

It was as if a freight train had hit her right in the heart, all of the feelings rushing back in (coursing through her heart and making her feel more alive than ever, before finally rushing down south and making her warm. She awkwardly rubbed her thighs together to try to relieve some of the pressure that was beginning to build there).

His hand was in her hair and his tongue had finally met hers. And it felt like heaven. But it still wasn't enough.

She had forgotten had wonderful he tasted and how attentive he was. Killian Jones was unlike any lover she had ever had.

Moaning into his mouth, their tongues gently stroking the other, she gave a contended sigh when her back met the counter (and then the memories came rushing back – of a similar time when they had made out in the culinary school kitchen, still young and naïve when all of this was still _new_. But now that she had already had him previously, Emma knew how he felt, how he loved, how he stretched her insides perfectly. And she wanted more.)

Emma didn't protest when his hands slipped under her thighs, guiding her up onto the countertop so he could easily slip between her legs. Their mouths never left each other as she wrapped her long legs around his waist, pulling him closer so that their hips met perfectly (rubbing the seam of her jeans against that sensitive spot that had her seeing stars before either had even undressed).

"Bloody hell, Emma, you are so beautiful. You have no idea how long I've wanted to tell you that."

His words were a whisper (a promise, a _truth_) against her flushed skin, peppering kisses along her jaw and neck before sucking at her pulse point that already had her writhing and moaning beneath him.

She felt her insides flip as his warm hands finally met her soft skin, fingers dancing across her stomach under her shirt up to thumb at her hardening nipple through her bra.

"Killian, not here," she begged, pushing him off slightly so that he would look her in the eyes (both breathless and panting from the hasty make out session). "Being a food critic, I happen to be friends with quite a lot of health inspectors. And let me tell you, having sex in the kitchen never reflects kindly on the report."

He grinned (that wicked grin of his that made her feel like she was going to explode before he had hardly even touched her – a promise of hopefully things to come). Smirk still upon his face, Killian leaned down to press his lips to hers once more, whispering against them. "Well it's a good thing that I live upstairs then."

She giggled (yes, Emma Swan giggled – but, hey, when you're probably about to get laid, it's almost hard not to). "How convenient, Mr. Jones. Lead the way."

Killian's devious smile returned, a wink thrown her way. "Oh I'll do better than that."

And then he scooped her up in his arms, Emma unintentionally letting out a yelp in surprise. It didn't take him long to find his way upstairs, only stopping a few short times along the stairwell to press soft kisses to her skin.

He didn't stop when he had finally opened the door and locked it behind them. And Killian didn't put her down until he had made it to his bedroom, laying her out on his bed, golden hair spread around her like the angel she was.

She smiled up at him (his chest still heaving from carrying her up the stairs) before she grabbed his by the lapels of his coat, bringing his lips down to hers again.

(The whole situation felt too familiar, but this time, Emma knew what she was getting herself into. She knew what she wanted.)

Their clothes came off frantically in a blur; she tugged away his jacket as he swiftly pulled off her shirt, opening her bra with a quick flick before his tongue found her cleavage.

Her back arched at his touch, that talented tongue of his doing wicked things to the nipple between his teeth, his hand massaging the other one that was desperate for his attention.

The rest of the clothes came off with ease (but not quickly enough for the frantic pair), until Killian finally ran his fingers along the seam of her panties, pulling down her underwear quickly and moaning when his fingers met her hot, wet flesh.

"Swan," he groaned, his finger flicking against her aching clit before slowing entering her, pumping in and out and curving up to that sweet spot inside. "You're so wet, love. Is all this for me?"

Emma groaned at his words, and the things his expert fingers were doing below (he had finally pushed a second finger inside, his thumb rubbing ever so slightly on the place that longed for his touch). "You've always had this effect on me, Killian."

He continued the work of his fingers, pushing in and out and curving and driving Emma absolutely insane until she exploded around his fingers, fist grabbing at the sheets as white hot heat burst throughout her body.

Killian's fingers continued inside her, helping her ride out the orgasm that was still desperately clutching to her. Emma's body finally relaxed, chest heaving from the intensity of the encounter. Her eyes finally fluttered open, only to find him already staring back, all blue eyes and dazzling smile.

"You're absolutely gorgeous when you come for me," he whispered against her skin, pressing a kiss to her hipbone, hand lost in her golden curls.

She shuttered at his words (who knew that Killian Jones was one for dirty talk?), smiling back at him and finally pulling his head back down to meet her mouth in a soft, sweet kiss.

As they kissed, her hand reached down to his lower half, only to find that he still had his jeans on (had he been this clothed the whole time she was naked and coming for him?). But it was a situation that Emma could quickly remedy.

Her hands popped the button of his jeans open and Killian quickly got the idea, pulling his pants and boxers off in one swift movement. His erection was hard against her thigh (and Emma knew that he was beyond ready for her).

Emma moaned when his cock slipped through her folds, and she pulled his body closer at the contact.

"Are you on the pill?" he whispered between kisses, trailing them all over her skin in eagerness.

"Yes, but having other protection wouldn't hurt. Especially after last time."

He chuckled at her joke (where he knew he shouldn't have), but she smiled back to let him know that it was all right. Killian pressed one last kiss against her lips before rolling off of her to rummage through his nightstand for a condom.

He was back just as quickly as he had left, tearing the foil packet and shoving the condom into Emma's hands (his eyes silently pleading for her to do the honors). She rolled the condom on in one swift movement before wrapping her fingers around him and guiding him towards where she needed him most

Emma took a deep breath as his erection nudged her entrance and she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation. She waited and waited, never feeling him slip inside.

"Swan, open your eyes," he urged, hand finding hers and lacing their fingers together. "I want you looking at me when I enter you."

The phrase alone should have scared her away, but when she looked up, she was met with the face of a man who meant every word he said, who looked at her as if she were the most precious thing on the earth, as if she had been the one to throw the stars in the sky.

Eyes wide open, she nodded and he slowly entered her, stretching her walls deliciously, both breathing a sigh of relief at the indescribable feeling.

(That one phrase they were both thinking - it had been _too_ long)

"Oh, Killian," she moaned, fingers clawing at his bare back where she more than likely was going to leave marks (not that he minded, she was already his).

He pulled her thighs up around his hips, changing the angle as her legs slipped around his waist before pulling out and thrusting back in. "That's it, Swan. Just like that."

She met him thrust for thrust, the pressure building low in her belly, the burn not enough as she chanted, "Faster. More, Killian. _God, more_."

Emma was surprised when he gave a soft chuckle, slowing his pace and pressing a kiss to her nose. "Can't you let a man make love to you?"

"Next time," she promised, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

Those two words (that promise that he had waited so long to hear) made something snap inside Killian and in an instant, his thrusts became harder, filling her up completely and hitting the spot that had her seeing stars.

His pace was brutal, but it was as she requested, thrusting wildly inside her (and god it was everything she ever dreamed it would be and more). The room was silent except for the sound of their erotic moans; sticky, sweaty flesh sliding against each other.

"Oh my god, Killian. I'm so close."

In all her years, Emma had never been a loud lover, but Killian seemed to draw out that need in her, the primal instinct to let him know how wonderful he was making her feel.

Killian's hand reached down to rub her clit frantically, and it wasn't long before she reached her climax, back arching off the bed and up into him, hands grabbing anywhere for something to anchor her as the heat rushed within. She had barely come down from her high when she felt Killian push into her one last time and still, her name on his lips as he reached that point as well.

They breathed against each other, the effects of their orgasms still lingering as he pulled out of her, throwing the condom into the trashcan beside his bed. Killian pulled her close, placing a kiss upon her lips before spooning her from behind.

The room was quiet, the smell of sex and sweat filling the air, the hum of their breathing lulling them to sleep.

"Swan?" His voice was low, husky, and warm upon her neck as he pushed her hair aside to place a kiss to her exposed shoulder.

She hummed, pulling his hand around her waist to splay his fingers across her belly, his softening cock warm against her backside. "Hmm?"

"I love you, Emma."

She stilled for only a moment at his words (it really shouldn't have surprised her, Killian was always one for flowery words and declarations of love), before his hand rubbed against her skin in a knowing way (silent words telling her that it was okay, that she didn't have to say the words back just yet).

Emma pulled the hand that rested on her stomach up to her mouth, placing a kiss on his knuckles. "I know."

The first time they had slept together, Emma felt nothing but regret.

This time, she didn't.


End file.
